Here in an Instant, Gone in a Flash
by sakurademonalchemist
Summary: Thanks to a freak accident involving lightning, Christopher is given the gift of super speed and the ability to transform into anyone or any animal. When he leaves England, he finds himself working in the most unusual job for a speedster...a librarian! But he's no ordinary Librarian, he's THE Librarian, protector of knowledge. Voldemort doesn't stand a chance.
1. Chapter 1

_**As a special Halloween treat to the fans, this is getting posted as a full story! HAPPY ALL HALLOW'S EVE EVERYONE!**_

* * *

The day he gained superpowers, he was seven and his "aunt's" precious bulldog Ripper had just chased him up a tree to the amusement of everyone else in the house. None of the Dursleys or Marge seemed to care about the thunderstorm rolling in, or the fact that unless Marge removed the bulldog, he was likely to get hit by lightning, or at the very least catch pneumonia.

As he stayed on the thick branch, shivering already from the temperature drop afraid of going down in case Ripper chose to attack him a second time, he wondered what he had done in any lifetime to deserve this.

He heard a crackle of thunder, and the rain began pouring in thick sheets. He was soaked in seconds.

And then it happened.

A loud crack of thunder directly overhead, and then he knew nothing. Just pain and heat and light everywhere.

He woke up in the hospital seven weeks after the incident. Ripper was dead, and it was a miracle he was even alive after being hit with such a thick bolt of lightning.

After being hit, there was a massive investigation launched into his home life. Petunia, Vernon, and Marge were all arrested after the neighbors woke up and saw something child-sized fall from the tree in the Dursley's back yard. Marge was more of an afterthought after she made multiple threats to murder him upon learning her dog had been caught in the blast that almost killed him.

Petunia and Vernon were arrested after someone looked into his home life...mostly because they vocally refused to pay for his treatment. The public outcry from that sparked an inquiry as to how callous they were.

It almost turned into a mob when the public found out that they actually made him sleep in a boot cupboard under the stairs. The fact that the cops found a child's hand writing that said "Harry's Room" in crayon. There was enough biological evidence to prove that a child had been living under the stairs for a number of years.

The rest was pretty self-explanatory. One of the few things they didn't tell him was that an old woman who was paying too much attention to the police and the investigation was also arrested... for a different charge.

Mrs. Arabella Figg was arrested for tax evasion, animal cruelty and neglect, and falsifying a government form. She wouldn't do nearly as much time as the Dursleys, but because of the arrest several important people were never alerted to what was going on.

After all, the name of the victim was never released. With how much evidence the police found simply by looking, there was no real need to drag the boy through the trial for his testimony. Not that they could, considering he was still in a coma barely alive, while the Dursleys were thrown into prison for a very long time.

Dudley was put into a home for children that needed a more… firm...hand. He had to undergo years of therapy before he could even remotely become a decent figure in society.

* * *

 _One year later..._

It still hurt to move, but thanks to numerous donations and sheer dumb luck, he was more or less able to live a normal life.

But that wasn't the real reason he was able to move after the incident. After the accident, something changed about him. Something down to the molecular level. He was faster, stronger. His healing had accelerated past human limits.

More than that, he could run. He had always been the fastest kid in Surrey (he got a lot of practice thanks to Dudley and his gang), but now he was the fastest child alive. Literally.

If he wanted to, he could create sonic booms in less than a minute, and that wasn't even his fastest speed.

He could read entire libraries in the span of a day, and remember everything. He could hit so fast that he could knock a small punching bag off the chain. And that wasn't getting into the fact that now he was away from his "loving family", he was able to eat large quantities of food.

He had learned how to pickpocket early on to avoid starving to death. Now he put it to use in order to keep his increased metabolism from being discovered.

Sure, he couldn't practice as much as he liked without getting busted, but even small steps were good enough for him.

After all, at eight years old, he had nothing _but_ time to hone his skills.

When he first got the letters, he thought someone was having him on. For about two seconds.

The fact was that he had run all over England, Scotland and Ireland at least twice in the past three years, and he had found several "enclaves" as he called them full of strange and wonderful things.

Places full of the taboo word in that house.

Magic.

He scoffed.

Christopher had been through a lot in the short time alive, far more than most children ever had to. But if there was one thing he had realized since the lightning hit him, magic was real.

There was simply no other logical explanation for the fact that he could change his appearance or turn into any animal he put his mind to...never mind his speed.

After the lightning strike, and learning he was now a speedster that could literally run on water and up buildings, he had thought that was it.

Then while he was experimenting with changing his vocal cords to make it harder to identify him by voice, he learned by accident that he could do more than make his pitch higher or lower.

He could change his appearance, from his hair and eye color, to even the pigmentation of his skin.

It went downhill from there. From changing the length and color of his hair, to slowly learning how to create feathers and scales, he found the only limits were his imagination...and the power requirements.

Anything that the regular world perceived as 'magical', from salamanders to unicorns...well, he generally had to store up energy for weeks and he could never maintain them very long. Normal animals, he could do easily. Magical ones were simply out of his range for now.

So no, he wasn't entirely surprised at being invited to a magical school.

The problem was that after the incident, he had gained something of a wanderlust. He had never found "the place", where he would feel comfortable enough to stay and act as a superhero...or an anti-hero really, since he usually made a living pick pocketing to support his experiments with his powers.

Somehow, he didn't think this Hogwarts was "the place" where he would feel comfortable. Too far away from civilization.

Besides, internet searches revealed they didn't even have internet, which was as close to blasphemy in his opinion.

Sure, according to the rumors they had something called "house elves" who would be more than happy to fill him up with plenty of fatty foods and sugary drinks on request, there were a lot of downsides from past graduates.

Half the classes were a joke, the teachers were biased, and there was this whole 'house rivalry' thing that made school life unnecessary difficult. This was also before one got into the fact that they lacked any normal education available, they were too far from normal civilization to access modern amenities like electricity or computers.

In fact they were right next to an 'enclave' called "Hogsmeade". And considering that area had a picturesque theme of "quaint medieval village" with a generous lack of his preferred stores...

Yeah, he wasn't _that_ interested in formal education. But he wasn't stupid enough to say that to their face.

Easier to get the supplies, make it look like he was interested, and find a better option. They were less likely to suspect he was planning to jump ship that way.

He went into "Diagon Alley" and went straight to the bank.

At least this time he could actually access whatever account he had. The goblins had refused to let him access his "vaults" until he was at least eleven. They did, however let him store his 'earnings' in a new vault. He had managed to accumulate quite a bit of gold and silver over the years since discovering the magical enclaves.

Not even magic could compensate for a pick pocket that was faster than the anti-thief spells on the pouches of coins held by the older families.

At least finding out about the enclaves had given him access to something he would have had to wait years to correct.

Potions that allowed him to get rid of the issues of malnutrition, anemia, and the general weakness in his bone structure from lack of the proper minerals.

He found one thing was universal, whether you were dealing with the normal or the magical world.

As long as you had the gold, you could always find someone willing to work for a price and not ask questions like why a minor was using back-alley healers rather than go to a 'real' doctor.

In the Underworld, you could find anything for a price.

"Welcome back, Mr. Astra."

'Astra' was short for astraphobia, or the fear of thunder and lightning. Christopher (renamed after the patron saint of travelers) felt it appropriate considering it was a lightning strike that gave him the boost to his natural magical powers.

"So...if I were to go looking for alternative schools, where would I go for information?" asked Chris.

"Third desk close to the back. Twenty galleons," said the goblin.

Chris cheerfully handed the goblin a galleon. It wasn't like it was from _his_ vault after all, and that blond wizard looked like a dick.

Half an hour later he had found at least three schools that suited his criteria...all of them requiring a passport to get out of the country.

He was really leaning towards America. They had so many superheroes that it was unlikely anyone would question what he could do if found out.

* * *

Many were looking forward to the return of the Boy-Who-Lived. Especially a certain old wizard, who had lost contact with the woman watching the poor boy almost three years ago. Arabella had been arrested and it had taken too long for him to arrange for her release.

The worst part was there was not even a hint of what had happened to little Harry. Every file was sealed and the cops were surprisingly close-mouthed about what his new name was, since Petunia outright refused to give it. Without birth certificates (and the desire to give the victim a clean break) the court had given the child a new identity and sent him to an assisted living facility for children.

While many felt sympathetic for his plight, no one was _that_ eager to care for a critically ill child who would need several years of therapy and was systematically abused. It was simply too much to ask of the average Englishman.

And the few that might be willing to do so often had children of their own who needed help.

It was simply easier to leave him in a home with the best nurses and pay for his care until he was eighteen, by which time the masses would have forgotten he existed.

Except when Dumbledore went to said home, he found out that the boy had made a miraculous recovery several months after the accident, and hadn't been seen since. The nurses were all too jaded to care, and after realizing he was able to leave on his own ability, were more than happy to keep their mouths shut about it.

The less media coverage, the less likely people were to ask uncomfortable questions about the care of the more rowdy patients.

He was welcome back at any time, and often used the place as a home base, but his visits were rare and infrequent at best.

So it came as a total shock when no one fitting even the barest description of Harry was seen on the train. Not even the post-injury description.

And they had lost one of their muggleborn students to the Americans. A Christopher Astraphobos.

It wouldn't be until later that he was kicking himself for missing the fact that the lad's last name was something he had made himself.

Chris was grinning like a madman as he was running across the water.

Most people would fly or take a boat to get to America.

He ran. He had long since figured out how to run fast and for long periods. He had literally traveled to France and back in ten hours, to and from. Nonstop, going at super speed.

Of course he spent an inordinate amount of time eating a McDonald's out of all the food it had after, but it was a small price to pay to see what his limits were.

Which meant he could make it to America purely on his speed...but he would have to hit a pizza joint with his stolen credit card after. Thanks to his ability, he could look like a college guy out to buy a mass quantity of food for his fraternity.

No one would question it.

Seeing land, he felt relief. He went a little faster, managing to reach the port. Once he was safely on ground, the first thing he did was go through a massive quantity of junk food that was heavy on the calories and sugar...before making it look like he had arrived in America on a cruise ship. Thanks to his stolen passport, no one looked twice at him.

From there, he hit a small town, stole a doctor's identity and forged a birth certificate. The town was so small that they didn't really have the resources to digitize all their files.

With a properly forged identity, no one would ask about a passport. Especially if he could drop his accent.

Well, at least he fooled the muggles anyway.

* * *

 _In a cell..._

"Christopher Astraphobos. Eleven years old, magically powerful...and you didn't exist until three years ago. Care to explain what an English orphan is doing in the States?"

After the incident with Scamander, the Americans had been more on the spot when it came to finding and retrieving foreign wizards who were attempting to enter their fair country.

Unlike Scamander, this one had known far more about No-Majs to know that he would need an actual background in order to go along with his magical one. And that credit cards were an excellent way to pay for things without suspicion.

There were multiple problems though.

First off, as a minor he should have been flagged immediately because he came on a cruise ship without an adult.

Second, the passport he had on him was for an adult, one who looked nothing like him.

Third, there was a credit receipt on a flagged card for, yet again, another adult that looked nothing like him, and the one who used it looked like a college aged man from a fraternity that didn't exist.

So yes, there were quite a few things that didn't add up, especially how he was able to forge a fake birth certificate so quickly and make it look authentic.

"So tell me, Mr. Astraphobos... who are you really?" asked the woman's partner.

"How much information do you have on England? Specifically Surrey."

"What does that have to..." started the woman.

"Oh god. You're the lightning kid aren't you?" said the man, looking at him horrified and amazed.

"Oh good, you have heard of me."

"About three, maybe four years ago this kid was hit by a massive bolt of lighting while being treed by this bulldog owned by his aunt. He was rushed to the hospital, barely alive and with third degree burns. Last the news reported of him, he was sent to an assisted living facility for special needs kids, with multiple burn scars on his body. It was a miracle he survived," he explained.

"If he's that kid, then how..."

"Do I look so normal, let alone have the ability to shift form and even age?" said Chris.

Seeing he had their attention, Chris grinned. He lifted one hand, and it vibrated so fast all you could see was a blur.

"Let's just say magic is the least of my abilities."


	2. Chapter 2

_Seven years later..._

It had been so long, but for the first time in almost a decade, he was heading back to where he began.

Though this time he was going legally, via an airplane. Slow, but discreet.

He had changed a lot in seven years.

Unlike most people his age, he never attended formal schooling. Not for a full decade anyway. No, he attained knowledge so fast after being hit by lightning that it made little sense to stick him in a classroom with other kids his age.

No, the American Ministry had harnessed his super speed and obvious intelligence and put it to good use.

He was an unofficial member of the government, though protected from the rather...passionate...members of the No Maj military.

There were a lot of people who would want to use Chris to "protect" the country from foreign elements, especially after 2001. People who wouldn't hesitate to kill and torture in order to find out how he was so fast in order to duplicate it on 'loyal' members of the military.

So instead he was put to work somewhere else. Somewhere his speed would be more...appreciated.

He worked in a library.

A bit low key, if anyone found out what he could do and how fast he went. But, he wasn't surprised in the least to find it was the perfect place for him to work, study, and get better. And best of all, as long as he produced results he never had to pay for his massive food bill ever again.

Chris was the best researcher the Ministry had. He could find any file, any random piece of material needed for critical cases. The American Aurors loved him, especially when it came down to hunting down old files that had been forgotten about. Or rushing papers to the courtroom in time-sensitive cases.

He liked to read. He earned a steady income putting books away, researching, and learning control over his speed.

It took a _lot_ of control to be able to run fast, but not so fast that he knocked every book off the shelf. Again.

He had to run just fast enough to shelve the books (or remove them) without causing the wind to knock over the books. It took a lot of patience. Something he had in spades, contrary to what people might think.

Fortunately, he had plenty of time. An eleven year old had nothing _but_ time. And he had spent seven years of it learning everything he could about his powers.

The problem was that things in England had started heating up. Really heating up.

Voldemort was back, and he was very close to conquering the place. Normally this wouldn't be his problem, except... rumor had spread that the missing boy-who-lived had a prophecy hanging over his head, stating that only he could kill Voldemort once and for all.

Because of that, the Englishmen had developed a rather worrying strategy to dealing with the Death Eaters, at least those known to associate with Dumbledore. They were basically letting them run roughshod over the idiots who believed in the old man.

Which meant that there would be a huge influx of people heading out of the country. Most of which would want to stay in English speaking places... like America for instance.

And the American Ministry was _not_ interested in dealing with the surplus from the English. Not after the mess one wizard left by bringing things he most certainly shouldn't have. Besides, Chris was very bored, and this would certainly keep him out of trouble.

That, and he had some shiny vaults to claim now that he was of age and an adult wizard, by their standards.

"Welcome to England, Mr. ...I'm sorry, how do you pronounce this name?" asked the customs agent.

"Astraphobos, but I'm actually returning after being away for seven years," said Chris.

"I see. Passport please?" she asked.

He handed it over, and got it stamped.

"Welcome home to England, Mr. Astraphobos."

"I wish I could say it's because of fond memories," said Chris, taking it and heading through the line.

* * *

It took him little time to sign into the hotel. Since he was there with the blessing of the Queen _and_ the president of the US, he got a discreet room that wouldn't draw too much attention to himself.

Most people his age would either go the super cheap route, hoping to save money...or blow their money on an extravagant place that really wasn't worth it except to show how rich you were.

He chose a popular hotel that was cheap, reliable, and part of a chain that was familiar to him.

Once he was settled, he made a plan of attack. The basic plan was simple.

The Queen was sick and tired of the threat to her people, and she wasn't buying the line that the Ministry was selling her. The thing was, she couldn't trust her military to end it, because they wouldn't know where to look, never mind have enough of the right tools.

Chris had been around the enclaves enough to remember where they were, or at least a gist of where they had been. He had access to the largest library in the Americas. He spent seven years refining his control, performing experiments on his powers, and learning everything he could under the guidance of more experienced magicals.

Unlike their mundane counterparts, the Magical society wasn't that greedy to replicate unusual powers in normal people.

This was because they knew that one well trained magical with a large enough core was more effective than a hundred ill trained people with ill-gotten powers that had no idea what they were doing.

And Chris had been training a long, long time to discover limits, content with small leaps in progress.

The next morning he went to work.

Chris opened up the window, and immediately closed it. He had forgotten how depressing England's weather was, and that wasn't getting into the fact he hated mornings.

He debated on getting breakfast, but considering he had the most annoying habit of waking early despite hating it, he chose to get to work.

* * *

 _An hour later..._

"Holy crap. How much has that guy eaten?" whispered an American woman on her European vacation from college.

"Looks like someone went partying last night. Wonder if he knows any good spots?" replied her friend grinning.

"Still as good as back home. Thank god for chain hotels!" said Chris, stretching.

Thanks to an hour's worth of power-reading through old records, coupled with Google maps, he was able to locate all the potential Death Eater manors and homes. Next was using some of the lost spells to find out which were the most active and eliminate them.

Honestly, the magicals of England were idiots. It only took him a little research and he found the best hiding spots of the Death Eaters, or those suspected of being Death Eaters.

Now that he had locations, he had to make sure his cover was solid.

Time to enjoy being a tourist. Or a refresher, in his case.

Chris noticed pretty quick when the two attractive American girls wandered over to his table.

"Hey, we were just wondering," started the first. A pretty brunette with a Midwestern accent.

"If you knew the best places to party," finished her friend, an equally attractive red head.

"As a matter of fact, I know the perfect places to go. So what are you in England for? Tourist traps, hot night spots, or just seeing Europe during the summer break?" he asked, his own American accent obvious.

"Sightseeing, but we wouldn't say no to someone who knows the area."

"Well you're in luck. I used to live in England till I moved to America, and I can find all the best hot spots that only a local would know," said Chris grinning.

Inwardly he was laughing, because these two would provide the best cover he'd ever need. No one would question an attractive boy spending time in Europe with two equally attractive girls, especially if he was leading them to the best spots.

* * *

 _Somewhere in the misty countryside..._

While it was disappointing leaving Clarissa (the hot brunette) and Cathleen(the red head), the unfortunate fact was that duty called.

Besides, he was a veritable monk at this point. He didn't like distractions very well, and hormones were extremely distracting.

Most teens his age got up to stupid stunts that got them killed trying to impress girls.

He found new ways to get his adrenaline fix without getting into trouble. Explosions were awesome that way, especially when they were for a good cause.

Seeing the massive mansion on the hill with the monogrammed gates, Chris smirked and not in a good way.

He changed into his special shoes, then made sure they were snugly on his feet.

"One," he said, taking a single step towards the house.

"Two."

"Three."

And with a blink of an eye, he was gone.

In that place, time stood still. His body was literally moving so fast that time moved around him, instead of the other way around. He walked up to the people in outdated robes, and casually lifted up the sleeves. If there was a skull and snake tattoo, he stabbed them with a needle with a concentrated dose of king cobra venom. With the way the needle was designed, it looked like they had gotten bit by a very angry snake.

Considering Voldemort's reputation for snakes and using them in his raids, it wasn't likely the Aurors or other Death Eaters would look closely enough at the cause of death enough to figure out something was wrong.

A single touch of his hand, and he made the Death Eaters vibrate at a frequency that caused the venom to go through their blood at an accelerated rate.

By the time he left, the venom would have gone through their body to the point that they'd never get help in time.

Not unless they had phoenix tears on hand in the next three minutes, which was unlikely considering he was going to steal everything.

Thank god for expanded trunks.

Chris left the manor after robbing it blind, and killing damn near every occupant in the house. Only a few escaped his visit, and those were people who were too young to really be held accountable.

He walked out of the manor, past the gates and was whistling as he picked up his bag and went Between back to the street that his hotel was on.

With how often he traveled England when he first got his powers and how unlikely things were to change in an area the pure bloods lived in, he had been able to visualize the place easily enough once he knew what he was looking for.

Anne McCafferey wasn't entirely full of it when she described the area known as "Between". Though she really, really understated how cold it was. Or that only 'dragons' could access it.

It was the original form of Apparition, except it was a bit more liberal on the landing. You could go anywhere and anywhen if you had a strong enough visual.

It was just that people tended to get lost when they tried to time travel, so it was restricted to just 'anywhere' and they deliberately forgot a few things.

Hence the pulled through straw sensation Chris had despised. He never used apparition again once he found the original way to teleport places.

Now for the awkward part.

"Tipsy! Jenks! I'm going to need a Time Special," said Chris clearly.

"At once, Master Astra!" they replied in unison.

After the first week of seeing the food bill, the Ministry had assigned two house elves to keep him fed. It was cheaper that way. They could produce massive quantities of food, and they didn't demand payment for cooking.

Besides, only house elves could keep up with the food demands of a speedster who metabolized too quickly for even a fast food chain to keep up with.

Case in point, the epic breakdown of staff moral after the time Chris went to France and back. There had been so much arguing and yelling trying to keep up with demand that he had vowed not to do that again without having the food already prepared first.

Hence why the elves had been trained to make large quantities of foods that were slow to digest, like stew or large sub sandwiches. They also handled the clean up.

Twenty minutes later, he let out a loud belch before making sure the door was locked.

"Good work as always. Now to see what sort of goodies I managed to snag."

He put the small trunk on the ground, tapped it twice and waited for it to become normal sized before he went inside.

There was an entire library's worth of books, all of them from the personal collection of the Malfoy family. And that wasn't getting into the trinkets, gold and other personal belongings that could be resold later once they were 'scrubbed' of anything that would identify them.

Take the jewelry for example. Removing the jewels and melting the metals would make it impossible for them to be traced.

Being a thief had it's advantages.

"Nasty. Then again the Malfoys were always rather...unpleasant... even when they were French. Too bad for the family, I'm a linguist as well as a librarian," grinned Chris.

He closed the trunk, and sent it on ahead to the Library and grabbed the remote. He planned to crash for a few hours before he repeated his success.

When he read the byline of the _Daily Prophet_ , his grin was a bit bigger. Nice to be noticed.


	3. Chapter 3

The Order of the Phoenix was not happy. A thief was going into the homes of the darker families, killing everyone who had a Dark Mark, and then leaving with everything of value.

What little the Aurors could find (once alerted by the distraught house elves or panicked children, always under thirteen) was that they had died by snake venom. A king cobra, to be precise.

The most baffling thing was that not a single one of the wards were tripped, and even with house elves present in the room, no one could even see a hint of the thief.

The only thing they saw was that in the span of a few moments, everything was stolen from the houses they were bound to guard, with particular emphasis on the books.

Even lacing the libraries with every tracking spells known to magical England had no effect. There was even a rumor that the legendary Librarian was in England cleaning house.

And that was the problem. The position of the Librarian was a coveted one for the true Ravenclaws. They had access to books long since lost, and artifacts that were more powerful and ancient than any available.

They were the guardians of knowledge, the keepers of the most interesting secrets. And only one Librarian could function per collection at a time. Rarely were there two confirmed Librarians, usually one for the normal collection (or those that didn't require magical blood), and one for the "special" collection, which would require active natural magic to read, never mind enter.

In short, it was every bookworm's wet dream to be even given a chance to become the Librarian. Even Granger would happily go Dark if it meant being chosen.

Naturally Dumbledore wanted to recruit the mythical guardian. He had high hopes that in doing so, he might be able to stop the mass murder of the pure bloods.

They had to be alive if they were going to be redeemed.

Moody snorted.

"You're a damn fool if you think the Librarian, if it is him, will willingly join with us."

"What do you mean?" demanded Molly.

"The Librarian is the ultimate neutral party, and will only intervene to insure that the old knowledge is either contained or preserved for when the world is ready to use it again. They'll not join a specific side in a minor war just because we don't like their methods."

"You call this a minor war?!" hissed Minerva.

"Aye, compared to the Great Wars or even the ones going on in the Middle East now, this is nothing more than a minor skirmish at best. The only difference is that those with the right training were taken out, or had the common sense to leave when they saw the signs. A small tactical group with the right information would be more than enough to deal with the Dark Lord or his followers. That is, if Albus hadn't infected them with his so-called redemption ideals or they weren't recruited by Riddle himself. From the looks of things, I wouldn't be surprised if the Librarian _was_ called in by the Queen to clean our mess up, with the payment being everything he can take out of the manor when he hits it."

It would explain a lot, like why certain items that were worth a lot on the black market were ignored, but the entire library was always cleaned out.

Having said his piece, Moody limped out of the meeting which had devolved into a screaming match, with Molly being at the forefront on how they had to stop this.

Once he was far enough from Grimmauld place, Moody walked into a side alley and waited. A second later, a second Moody appeared and took back his peg leg and eye.

"Well?"

The first Moody shifted back into Christopher.

"Remind me _never_ to end up so badly injured that I get amputated. It's a good thing I had to learn how to walk with a crutch after one memorable experiment, or they might have figured it out. And what was with that damn eye of yours?" he complained.

Moody snorted.

"Anyway, from what I can tell the entire Order is useless. Thanks for letting me switch places with you to get a read on them. Wonder when they'll figure out that the library is missing."

"Better to be in the hands of the Library than for the books to 'mysteriously' vanish because Albus thinks they're too dark to use. Even that fool Black knew better than to let him remove the books from the house. Despite several arguments."

Chris held up a necklace.

"I'll dispose of this, and then put it in the Library as a reminder of the school. I am so glad I never fell into the trap that every other magical in this blasted country did."

"I'm heading off to Tahiti, or someplace warm. Now that the Librarian is in play, there's no real need for me to continue playing at 'helping' to win this blasted insurgency."

"Frankly I'm appalled that none of them picked up that I was a fake from the fact I know about current events. Honestly, how many wizards would know or even care that the Americans are fighting in the Middle East with several terrorist groups, outside of the few mercenary groups hired by them to help?" said Chris in disgust.

Moody said nothing. The mere fact they hadn't caught that deliberate slip-up was a slap to the face on how far intelligence and common sense had fallen in recent years. Even Albus hadn't picked up on it.

Hell, Chris had even picked a time close enough to the full moon that Remus should have been able to pick up something was off! He even stood NEXT to a werewolf with an amplified sense of smell, and the man didn't even realize that there was a fake!

If Chris had such an easy time replacing one of their best operatives (if only because Moody didn't hesitate to hit with lethal spells rather than just stunners) then the entire thing was just a club for fools who were too afraid to actually DO something about the problem.

Chris handed Moody a passport and a ticket to someplace far warmer than England.

"As we agreed. A one-way trip out of the country in exchange for a little information."

"Pleasure doing business with you," said Moody, accepting the payment.

He had been leery of helping the teenager infiltrate the Order, but he had already known the entire thing was compromised. Besides, the young man before him didn't fit any descriptions of known Death Eater affiliates and even had the familiar tattoo.

Every Librarian, if they survived long enough at the job and didn't turn evil from too much power, usually found the tattoo that alerted their comrades to who or more specifically _what_ they were.

It was a mark that they accepted a higher calling and held themselves to a much higher standard than any Ministry.

The only difference was that this particular one worked _with_ his Ministry as a courtesy. He didn't answer to them, but he was willing to humor them from time to time.

Hard to believe he got the position when the previous one was killed and he was the _only_ candidate with the right qualifications for the job...even if he spent three years training before they were comfortable with allowing him out of the safe confines of the Library.

Excalibur was a brutal taskmaster, and it refused to let him leave without an escort of a senior member until he was able to win a fight against it ten times out of ten. And his speed didn't really help when he didn't know what he was doing with a sword.

Chris and Moody parted ways, though neither of them turned their back on the other until they were both well out of sight.

Constant Vigilance was Moody's motto for a reason.

* * *

It took Sirius all of an hour to find out that the entire Black Family library had been stolen. And only five minutes to realize what happened.

"Oh Merlin... Harry! He was here!"

"What?!"

The Order members that had remained were quick to come upstairs at that exclamation.

"What do you mean Harry was here?" said Dumbledore.

"I mean he was here, in this house! There's not even a scrap of parchment left in the library, and you know I activated the wards on the shelves that prevent anyone without Black blood from taking them out of this area!"

"And the only member of the Black family that could have taken them was one that we wouldn't recognize on sight. Andromeda and Nymphadora were at the meeting, which would have left only Harry as the culprit," said Remus.

Narcissa, Bellatrix and Draco had already been murdered by the third theft during a major meeting of the Death Eaters. They were confirmed dead and all the vaults had defaulted back to the Black family, as Andromeda was the closest living relative of any of them that was still alive. And since Sirius had allowed her back into the family once his name was cleared, that meant it went straight to the Black vaults.

"How did we miss him? Surely someone would have noticed an unfamiliar face during the meeting!" said Hermione Weasley.

"What about Kreacher? He must have noticed an intruder in the house," said Nymphadora. She hated that elf, but even a horrible one like him would have noticed something.

"Kreacher!"

"Nasty master wants something of poor old Kreacher?" sneered the elf. He had never liked Sirius, even when he was the heir.

"Was there anyone up here during our meeting a few hours ago?"

"The Black heir was up here earlier, insuring that the Black legacy was properly protected from nasty mudblood loving headmaster. He put it all in a trunk and told Kreacher to keep silent on his being there, even if he was hiding as that scarred wizard."

"Moody," said Hermione in shock. How could they have missed that Moody had been replaced?

"Has anyone seen Alastor?"

"He left shortly after the meeting," said Fred.

"Didn't really talk, just went out the front door and down the street," added George.

Several Order members rushed out, to see if they could find Moody.

* * *

Chris was grinning wildly. He had managed to get this trick down before leaving New York.

He was a bored genius with access to a lot of gold, people more than happy to humor him in exchange for a little help from the Librarian, or access to knowledge he could parcel out with agreement from the senior members.

On his back, there was a strange warbling, chattering sound.

"Oh you hush Cal. It's not like we haven't tested this back home, and you know it gives people hope seeing things like this."

The warbling grew higher pitched, before shaking with something almost like laughter.

"That's what I was thinking Cal," chuckled Chris.

Moonlight peaked through the clouds, illuminating the figures. One was Chris, but it would surprise many to discover the mysterious "Cal".

Light shined on a silver, almost cross like thing on Chris' back. Closer inspection revealed...a sword?

Cal shifted, without being held by Chris. Much like it's "brother", it was very much alive. Unlike it's brother, it couldn't leave the stone freely.

A previous Librarian had gotten tired of the "puppy-like" attitude the sword had and shoved it into the first stone it could find before placing a spell on it similar to the one Merlin left on the original.

Excalibur had not been happy with that idiot, and he was kicked out in short order "for abusing the artifacts". Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do to remove the sword...because it was extremely rare for the Library to pick a natural magic user, as opposed to a learned one.

Then Chris came along, and discovered the distraught sword. He had mistaken it for Excalibur, because the real one had gone into hiding. It remembered the previous magical Librarian and wanted nothing to do with him just yet.

Needless to say Cal loved Chris for freeing him and not putting him back.

Of course the older Library members had to explain to Chris that Caliburn had been sealed by an idiot of a Librarian and that he was likely the only one who could have freed the poor sword. Though that was after they explained that Caliburn was the original sword in the stone.

Excalibur was the replacement that was found after Caliburn got mad at Arthur and went missing.

As such, Caliburn (now called Cal by Chris) became the closest thing to a bodyguard for the youngest Librarian...and his best friend.

It was the only artifact that Chris would ever take from the Library, and the only weapon he'd ever need.

No one ever expected a sword that could fight better than it's owner to start floating and kick their ass, and he was more effective at hand to hand combat anyway.

He got really, really bored sometimes at the Library, and they had excellent scrolls on lost martial arts.

Cal chittered at Chris, disliking the bindings keeping it safe on his back...and the fact that he was going to attempt flight again.

Most Librarians tried the jet pack the first chance they had.

Chris had learned that broom flight was possible, and so made a point to play keep away from the previous Librarian until he "died".

There were some sections of the Library that only someone with natural magic could safely access.

And after that, the Library refused to accept anyone else because Chris had freed Caliburn. So they were stuck having to train a minor how to save artifacts and preserve the knowledge until it was safe to release it.

Chris had been storing all the stolen books and artifacts in one of the Annex portions of the Library. They were important for the Europeans, not the world. And they were safe enough to disperse once things were properly put in order in England again.

Chris grinned, and looked out below. There was enough length to the top of the bridge that would let him get a good running start, considering he could get enough wind under the wings to not fall to his death.

Though just in case, he always had a broom ready, strapped to Cal which was part of the sword's annoyance.

He could hear the sirens of the cops coming his way, so he had little time before he had to deal with their yelling at him.

Chris got to the very edge of the side he wanted to run towards (he wanted to do a flyby of Big Ben) and counted to three.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

At three, which was all the signal he needed, he drew on the speed force and took off faster than most Olympic sprinters, much less a plane. His glider wings started picking up lift three quarters of the way to the other edge, and took off just as he kicked off the side of the bridge.

Once air borne, he immediately started spinning his arms in a circular motion, causing small tornadoes to appear. This created enough thrust to fly, despite the lack of wind.

Annoyance turned to fear turned to shock down below, as the cops and everyone else watched as a young man did something very stupid. And then he did something amazing.

He was flying, using some sort of technology and a regular hang glider.

As far as London knew, there was a superhero in England, likely dealing with the current crisis since the police and government couldn't.

Cameras flashed, videos were taken and within minutes it was online.

For the first time since Voldemort had made his grand return and started his wave of terror, there was hope. Hope that someone would put a stop to the madness.


	4. Chapter 4

Voldemort was not happy. Someone had been going around taking out all his major bases, and larger gatherings of Death Eaters with a terrifying efficiency...and the muggles were _helping_ them _._

He was down to only a bare dozen of proper Death Eaters, and a handful of followers.

Dumbledore wasn't much better. Several members of his precious Order had been either arrested or discreetly vanished.

And the Ministry... the less said about how _they_ were frothing at the mouth, the better. Old families had either moved well out of the UK to other homes in Europe, or had left it altogether...taking their entire libraries with them. The mysterious thief had taken so much knowledge that the knowledge was considered permanently lost.

There was no way to recover all the lost magic, a fact that England was mourning over, or would once the war was over.

The biggest blow had to be Hogwarts. The entire library was stolen, along with the Ravenclaw library and the private library of Dumbledore and several others. Even Severus' potions supply had been hit.

In short, it was nothing less than a complete disaster.

* * *

"This is Speed Reader, we have eyes on target, repeat, we have eyes on target," said Chris.

" _Confirmed Speed Reader, ETA, 85 seconds to impact."_

"Roger that, _Valkyrie_. On an unrelated note, if we get the lot of them, first rounds on me," said Chris.

" _Copy that, over and out."_

Chris watched as the plane flew over. With his laser targeting the area, they dropped directly on top of the Death Eater meeting currently in progress. They were arguing over the wards and how it failed to stop the thief, while Voldemort was cursing anyone he could get a clean shot at. Most had conjured shields to avoid getting Crucio'd by their master.

There was the sound of something being dropped, and engines pulling up.

Thanks to the fact he was on a broom, he was able to pull up faster than the ripple of the blast could hit him. Then the shockwave pulled everything back in on itself.

Once the ground cooled enough to safely check the damage (the manor was completely destroyed) Chris started looking around.

There were bodies everywhere. There was complete devastation, and the military would be around once they were done confirming no other casualties other than those already planned were around.

It was as he reached the center of the blast radius that it happened.

Voldemort seemingly "rose" from among the dead scattered around him.

He was absolutely furious. This was a meeting he had personally insured would have no spies. Not even the house elves were allowed in the place, and it had been scrubbed from any Ministry record years ago.

HOW had this upstart found them?!

"You know, for a Dark Lord you can be a real idiot. Just because the record of a home was scrubbed from the magical Ministry doesn't mean you got all the records. Tax records are so useful, if you know how to look. And really, obliviating the neighbors was pointless. I was alerted to the fact this house was active by a five year old with a smart phone," said Chris cheerfully.

Thanks to a push notification to everyone located in the UK, or had phones registered to UK numbers, the public was alerted to the fact that terrorists were squatting in previously unoccupied homes that were never put on market. A general description of "traditional" magical garb, and that of a Death Eater mask were given, and parents alerted to the fact that a feral pack of dogs were seen roaming through poorly lit areas and were often active during the three days of a full moon.

So far most of the "feral wolves" had been annihilated, and those who were already bitten or had the lychanthropy gene naturally had come forward...if only to avoid being shot by police.

Most generally kept in touch with the technology trend or their kids did. So when they found out that the government was willing to hand them keys to specially made bunkers in old bases that were no longer used so they could transform in peace (it was accompanied by a thick silver fence too high for any werewolf to jump and armed guards equipped with the most heavy duty tranquilizer guns that could be safely used on subjects with few side effects) some tentatively tried it out.

By the time Chris decided to target Voldemort, most werewolves had more or less come out of hiding in exchange for government sponsored jobs contingent on them keeping themselves safely locked up or moved to an island too far out for anyone to swim to short on their moons.

They were also given labs with the proper equipment and a government paycheck to see if they couldn't find a cure, or at least make werewolves a bit more...in control...while transformed.

Chris had to do a lot of negotiating before the werewolves trusted them even a little that the government was treating this like a disease, and not a curse. It was no more evil than AIDS or HIV was.

And there had been some progress in at least treating the control issue. The Prime Minister was already paying several first generation witches and wizards (one of the first thing that had to go was the word "muggle") who could have been potionmasters, healers or aurors to make enough batches of Wolfsbane potion for those that agreed to take it on their moons. They were the only ones allowed to roam freely on the base, and they were watched to avoid accidents.

Some werewolves hadn't liked that, but as a surprisingly helpful Remus Lupin (one of the first to come forward to see if the offer was genuine) had pointed out that it at least gave them time to lock themselves in if the potion didn't work, and it meant that there wouldn't be any accidents.

After all, the potion was on a voluntary basis only. If you didn't want to take it, or didn't like being watched while you did, then you could lock yourself up. It was as simple as that, and they left you alone.

Voldemort sneered at Chris, and the speedster merely smiled at him.

He reached back and pulled out Caliburn. Voldemort was about to use his wand, only to suddenly find his head was vacant from his neck.

For a few seconds, he blinked stupidly before his brain caught up to the fact that it was no longer attached to the rest of the body.

It collapsed on the ground, and Voldemort didn't even get a good speech in.

Chris reached for his radio.

"This is Speed Reader. Just cut off the head of the main snake, but we might want to make sure that the rest of him doesn't suddenly get up and walk just in case. Bring some napalm, over."

" _Copy that Speed Reader. See you at the pub, over."_

Chris made sure to put Voldemort, or what was left of him in a trunk all his own. Two separate compartments, impossible for the body and head to pull itself back together.

After that he went Between to the main pub at the base where the _Valkyrie_ had left, and went to the barkeep.

"I'm going to be paying for the first round, once they get in," he explained.

Thank _god_ England didn't have the same drinking age limit as America.

"To Speed Reader, for inviting us to the party!" said Neville O'Brien, the one who had dropped the bomb.

"For inviting us to the party!" cheered the men.

"And for paying for the first two rounds!" Chris jokingly added.

That got laughter and even more cheer from the men.

* * *

The first clue England and the regular witch and wizard that something had changed came from the news line of the _Daily Prophet_. The article had been specifically drafted and written as per the Queen's demand. Chris just held the editors at wand point to insure that no ad-libbing was done.

" _Dark Lord Dead! Ministry to be folded back into the Queen's government per Royal Decree! All Witches and Wizards now subject to the Queen's law. Wizangamot abolished."_

The basic gist of the article was that because the Ministry bungled up it's job so badly, the Queen had declared the original treaty that allowed them to live in seclusion null and void. The effect of which was that the entire Ministry was now stuck having to answer to HER, rather than an elected official who paid enough people off.

Only those loyal to crown and country (that had enough magical background, whether they were squib or pure blood) would be chosen to lead the magical society until it was ready to reintegrate back into the modern world.

As Chris had told the Queen and her officials, they didn't have to force change outside of a few things here and there (for example, the anti-werewolf laws). No, they could let the modern culture do that for them.

Once the teenagers and other brash youngsters eager to make a mark on the world got a taste of how much easier technology made things, like cell phones and computers, they'd do all the work for them. The older generation could be given a place to live according to the old ways, within reason, and left alone.

Once they started using technology and getting used to the idea of actual equality, not the nonsense Dumbledore kept claiming was "for the Greater Good" then things could really get going.

Simple things to make the transition easier, like better classes at Hogwarts and showing them how to use something like a typewriter would make it easier to blend, until there was hardly a difference outside of some people having an extra talent and some without.

Of course the old ways would have to be preserved, within reason of course. Families could make a list of how things "used to be" and if it didn't cause too much harm or expose magic to the world too early, it would be allowed.

Fortunately, that included the idea of "nobility"...though some families would be cut from the list in short order, if Chris hadn't already dealt with them.

And this time the magical parliament would have a similar set up to the one already in place...just with better minders and they had to get the laws they wanted to be put into place approved by the Queen before it could be allowed.

Honestly, while it sounded like a mess, it was several times better than what Chris had to put up with in America before his minor suggestions cleared things up.

For one thing, if a witch or wizard wanted approval to study a book in the Library's collection, they had to go through him first. And he made very, very sure that the purpose wasn't going to do more harm than good.

A simple spell to copy the book meant that the original never left the collection if the application was approved, and a house elf delivered it personally to the one asking. Several books had been "borrowed" in this manner, and the copies eventually dispersed among the scholarly sects.

The Library was meant to be used after all, and until now they had been unable to share valuable knowledge with the magical world because it was rare for the Library to let one in.

Especially in modern times, after what Grindlewald and more recently Voldemort pulled.

Though it had taken a few months before they figured out how Chris actually got in, and why the Library seemed to repel their efforts to make him leave.

After that they trained him and let him live there, since he couldn't very well live alone as a minor.

Frankly Chris was glad he was going home soon. He hadn't missed England at all, and while being Knighted and given an upgrade to his family's noble title (he didn't even know there was one) was nice, the simple fact was that he had zero interest in dealing with the headache that was the pure bloods or their hold on the magical society.

They were going to get a nasty wake up call, and it was almost certain he'd hear more than just howlers when they found out who was responsible.

The Queen had been gracious enough to hold back the news of who cleaned up their mess until _after_ he was safely home in the Library, which had the best wards. Well that and she agreed not to send any marriage proposals his way.

He wasn't even nineteen for god's sake. He had no interest in marrying someone, and he almost never dated because of work!

* * *

Chris hid a wince as he managed to roll out of the way of Excalibur's welcome home attack. He had gotten a lot of practice with Caliburn, but Excalibur was a bit rougher to practice with.

"Welcome home."

"For now. Frankly I hope that they don't clean things up for a while, because I really, really don't want to deal with them screaming at me for hiding their old books from them."

Most, if not all of the books he had taken were put in the English Annex. The only way they were getting _any_ of them back was to straighten out the mess that their magical society had become, which wasn't happening in a decade, at least.

Stealing the Hogwarts library was more of a wake-up call that they needed to update their collection. Most of the law books were completely out of date, and half the reference books were a joke.

And the less said of a proper novel or fantasy, the better.

"Actually we were talking while you were gone..." started Judson.

"I thought we agreed my petty thievery was acceptable because I make sure no one gets hurt?"

"Not that. We think you need an Administrative Leave of Absence for a while."

Chris stared at them both.

He pinched his nose.

"What brought this on?"

"You're almost nineteen and have spent six years of your life living in the library, without social interaction. There's a reason why the age limit is over twenty," said Charlene bluntly.

"This isn't permanent is it?"

"Not at all. We just want you to spend a few years outside of working as the acting Librarian to be a normal teenager. You can take Caliburn with you, as you know he'll only mope with you gone."

"I would still have access to the Library and all the Annex areas?"

"And take active missions to justify your paycheck," said Judson.

"So basically a paid vacation until I've grown out of my 'brash youth', despite the fact I'm more mature than most. With cover identification so I can bluff into any job I want?"

The older two relaxed. This was going smoother than they hoped, but then again Chris was more mature than any other teen his age and he was actually somewhat bored being stuck in the Library.

He needed to spread his wings and learn his limits beyond just his powers.

Though odds were pretty high he'd be living in one of the Annex areas in America, rather than rent an apartment. He couldn't completely let go of the Library after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Chris looked at his new home for the foreseeable future. He was in a relatively unused Annex, one that had been automatically retrofitted to his tastes. It was close enough to Central City that he could get a job and still sleep in his bed, and it was in a relatively unpopulated area for him to practice without worrying about silly things like satellites.

The entire area was owned by whoever was chosen as Librarian, which meant he could put up some extra wards to keep nosy people out. In the event of people trying to get past the fence with clear "No Trespassing" signs and helpful directions to the nearest road, there were plenty of surveillance cameras...that didn't run on electricity.

Every camera was equipped with two video feeds...a magical scrying spell that went to a large mirror, and a regular computer screen. It was powered by runes and the surrounding leylines, and it was on a strict closed circuit system to prevent hacking. For finding intruders while he wasn't in the Annex, it was hooked up into his phone which had a reflective enough surface to double as a mirror. That and he knew the spell to link an ordinary mirror to the main one.

And he had the only key to the Annex, which was so heavily fortified it might as well be a castle in it's own right, with the collection and everything in it hidden inside a pocket dimension he could cut off and be back in the Library. But that was a last resort measure only for when the collection faced imminent danger.

The death of a Librarian was considered tragic, but acceptable so long as the collection remained safe. It was very much a lifetime commitment.

Once he was settled in (magic made it easier to live "off the grid" and ignore pesky things like utility bills), the next thing he did was go check out the city that was less than twenty miles from where he was.

And really, running twenty miles mostly made him feel peckish these days. Who needed a car when you had magic, super speed and knew how to make portals?

Well that and two house elves more than happy to deal with the annoyance that was carting around the sheer amount of food he generally ate.

* * *

The second he reached Central City, he knew something was wrong.

There was a potential paradox-level event happening. Which meant that someone from either the future or the past was not where they were supposed to be, there was a raised risk of a paradox happening which would erase someone from existence.

He really, really hated those, and from the feel of it he didn't think the idiots who called themselves Time Masters were involved...for once. It was hard to like people who were actually stupid enough to give a working time ship to an immortal tyrant like Vandal Savage, who was more often than not the funding behind several groups that kept trying to steal things from the Library.

He didn't know _where_ the Library kept the artifacts, because the Library was connected to a pocket dimension.

He knew that if he even tried to break in directly, the entire Library would disappear and not come back until he was gone for good. And no Librarian worth his salt would tell him how to bypass it...not with the nasty little trick he found in the Black Library that was more hard core than the Fidelius.

If any of the high ranking members of the Library who knew how to disable that particular ward were captured and close to breaking, there was a compulsion that released a measured dose of Draught of the Living Death. It would act instantly, thus rendering them useless. And thanks to the magical properties of the potion, they couldn't sustain lethal damage while under it's effects.

All of that was tied to a specific code word that would never, ever come up in normal conversation, even in the strangest circumstances. And if it did, well, that's what the antidote was for.

And since only the most senior and loyal members of the Library were allowed in on the ward scheme, there was another option. A second code word that would instantly kill them, and alert the Library of their demise. It wasn't pleasant, but the information was too valuable to risk someone like Vandal Savage getting his hands on it.

An artifact or two was fine. They could do damage control. But access to the Library was not.

It was bad enough when things got taken by people who knew how to bypass the mundane protection. Rare, but hardly worth caring about outside of sending the Librarian or hiring a new one to retrieve it.

Chris mentally groaned.

Now that he knew about the fact there was someone here that shouldn't be, he had to determine the reason behind it and whether or not they warranted a personal visit from him.

He hated having to execute people. There was a reason why he made the list of requirements so long.

Voldemort was an exception. His people kept finding the Annex and trying to rob the place, thus making him a nuisance. Being paid to get rid of him was just bonus.

* * *

Doctor Harrison Wells and his famous Particle Accelerator. Everyone was talking about it, but few knew the physics behind it.

And he got access through the most innocuous hole imaginable. Good thing he didn't mind acting as a janitor, and no one really paid mind to people cleaning the floors who acted completely oblivious to science talk.

He had Cisco, one of the few who bothered to talk to him, dumb everything he said down.

Cisco was unaware that he knew more about the accelerator than even he did. All he knew was that the night janitor knew a lot of good movies and shared similar tastes in music...and didn't mind bringing food for the lab monkeys while they were trying to get the machine online.

The day the accelerator was to be turned on, Chris got the night off and spent most of it going through applications from the magical society to borrow certain books in New York. But not before hitting Chicago and bringing several of their famous pizzas.

Just because he lived in New York didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a Chicago-style pizza.

As a result, he was completely unaffected when the thing exploded and gave powers to a good chunk of Central City. Though in order to keep up the ruse of normality, he left a golem in a local coffee shop near the lab. As far as anyone needed to know, he was in the city that night.

And wouldn't you know it, nine months later he finds a fellow speedster has been born.

This was going to be fun.

Chris had been alerted to the fact Barry might have similar powers to him from the fact his heart rate was going too fast to be picked up. As the lone janitor to stay on (even at half pay) he knew when Barry woke up.

And he got to take plenty of blackmail pictures of Barry crashing into a van being loaded with dirty clothes. Talk about hilarious.

Even he never crashed _that_ spectacularly. Though there was that one time. And the time with the cows. And who could forget the not-so-fun time of crashing into a freaking _bog_...

Okay, so he had his fair share of crashes. But that wasn't until he started treated cross-country runs (and he meant by across country lines) as an everyday thing after he got good enough at stealing gold from the older families before he moved to New York.

He briefly considered helping him, but then decided against it.

It was more fun to watch the newbie learn the hard way how to control his speed. He could teach him the fun tricks once he figured out where the paradox was centered.

So far he had narrowed it down to S.T.A.R. Labs, but that was as close as he had gotten. Whoever it was that was stranded, they were hiding themselves better than he cared to antagonize.

After all, he was supposed to be on vacation from this sort of nonsense.

There was also the not-so-tiny detail of the fact he suspected Dr. Wells wasn't exactly who he claimed to be.

If he helped Barry deal with the meta-humans, then they'd expect his help all the time. Which was annoying.

* * *

Chris scowled when he saw General Eiling. The man was a menace, even when he wasn't trying to break into classified files like the ones that involved Library business.

And he did try to break into those, claiming he wanted to "protect America" from threats.

People killed each other over petty things just fine on their own. They most certainly didn't need super powered artifacts causing mass destruction and calamity to help them.

Fortunately Judson or Charlene dealt with the jerk, and he never knew the current Librarian was a minor until recently. Then again they were a bit more...diplomatic than he was.

Chris barely kept his tongue, though now that Eiling had decided to make a nuisance of himself there was no way in _hell_ he was letting that man come anywhere near Barry.

Time to make some calls.

" _Hello? Who is this?"_

"This is Chris Astraphobos. Is Judson or Charlene available?"

" _Chris_ who _?"_

"...You're new aren't you?"

Chris heard someone on the phone, and Charlene was quick to take it from the unknown speaker.

" _Christopher."_

"Charlene. General Eiling is here and making a nuisance of himself. Could you possibly arrange with the Secretary of Defense to move him somewhere a little more...suitable for someone like him?"

Like in the center of the Middle East conflict, or preferably against someone like ISIS?

She sighed.

" _You know it doesn't work like that, but if he threatens you or the grounds directly we can have him removed."_

"Damn. Was worth a try anyway. So was that a new guy?"

" _The Library found a replacement for the normal collection. A Flynn Carson. He's a bit over-eager, but he seems to have a good heart. On an unrelated note, your previous predecessor has been terminated in a permanent way due to an accident."_

"I never liked him anyway. You should probably warn this Flynn guy about the _other_ Librarian currently on leave. Otherwise he might react badly to me just showing up."

" _The idiot didn't even bother to notice there was a memo. If you happen to stab him, it's his own fault for not seeing the notice."_

They had a nice shiny piece of paper stating that the usual Librarian was on Administrative Leave until further notice, but still had full access to the archives. Either Flynn completely missed the thing, or he hadn't understood what the notice was actually about.

Should be fun to show up and scare the guy, just for kicks.

Since he couldn't get rid of Eiling in a polite way, it was time to do it the hard way.

Blackmail and an anonymous video sent to the president. The current one did _not_ like it when his military generals thought themselves above the law, much less when they tried to force people into inhuman experiments simply because they had a gift.

Then again that's what happens when you elect a magical werewolf as president, and schedule his moons accordingly.

Chris recorded the entire incident and angled the phone enough that you couldn't see Barry's full face. Eiling was going to be in for it even if he had to stalk the bastard and prank him until he begged forgiveness.

You did _not_ tick off a Librarian with prankster blood and access to a lot of books to make it possible.

Chris made sure to obscure his face as he cheerfully dialed up the President's personal number, and then hit send.

Eiling was too busy trying to cover up his illegal activities to notice the janitor walking away from the scene.

The president was _pissed_ when he found out Eiling tried to force a wounded veteran with bad luck into being an experiment.

Much to Chris' not so secret delight, the man was sent to the Middle East for a few months, where his attitude would be better received.

He wouldn't be back for a while...and when he did, he'd definitely go looking for who sent that video to the President personally. He was not used to being on such thin ice with the commander-in-chief and having to answer for his actions. Not since he became a general anyway.

* * *

Flynn was coming into the Library when he heard the sound of metal against metal. Almost like someone was...

He had to duck very quickly to avoid being scalped by a flying Excalibur. It recovered and dove at the intruder, and if Flynn didn't know any better he'd swear the sword was...happy?

"Who are you?"

And why hadn't security removed this guy yet?

The intruder turned, and Flynn couldn't believe his eyes. It was a kid. Barely out of his teens. With a sword that looked a lot like Excalibur.

"Name's Chris."

"You're the guy that called last week."

"You're the new guy aren't you? Flynn."

"What is going on here?" demanded Charlene. Then she saw the intruder. "Really? You just _had_ to scare the rookie."

"He nearly killed me with Excalibur," complained Flynn.

"I did not! I almost _grazed_ you with it."

The sword in his hand made a weird sound, almost like Excalibur. Flynn stared at it.

"What is that?"

"This is Cal, short for Caliburn. Think of him like Excalibur's brother," said a cheerful Chris.

"Who are you?"

"Did you really not see the notice? It's right next to the elevator. Hell, even the guards know about it," said Chris.

Flynn looked and saw the paper. It still didn't make any sense. Then it hit him.

"You're a Librarian."

"Technically I'm the guy who did the job until Charlene and Judson said I needed to enjoy my youth and put me on 'administrative leave'. Officially anyway. I handle the cases you're not equipped or qualified to."

And by that, anything to do with the magical communities or too high above his skill level.

Seeing the look of hurt on the guy's face, Chris tried another tack.

"Okay, do you know about the requests for books that are always on Charlene's desk every morning that usually disappear around lunch? I'm the guy who handles whether someone can borrow one of the books in the special collection that you can't access."

That seemed to deal with Flynn's unhappiness about being the 'temporary' replacement.

"So I'm the guy who collects the items and you're the one who hands them out pending approval?"

"Close enough. The main reason you're here is because I'm still considered too young to be the Librarian and the usual cut off is just over twenty," said Chris.

"How long have you been the Librarian?" asked Flynn, curious.

"He's lived here for over eight years, and he came here when he was almost thirteen," said Charlene.

Flynn stared at him.

"You've lived _here_ since you were thirteen?"

"I was drawn here soon after I came to America, and once they figured out the Library wanted me to be here, they let me stay. Though the last guy was pretty ticked off when he found out he couldn't boss me around. Apparently the Library needed someone to handle the special collection and I fit enough of the requirements to be that person."

"What is the special collection?"

Charlene sighed.

"I'll explain it to you later once I've had my coffee."


	6. Chapter 6

"So there are special communities for those born with natural magic, but unless you have the gift they won't let you in?" said Flynn, drinking the coffee Chris had cheerfully made.

"The special section is for natural magic, which means that requests to borrow copies of the collection are more common. Since secrecy is a big thing, they try to keep the things made from the knowledge hidden from the rest of the world, and we act as the ones who keep the knowledge of the old magic and rituals from being lost. Hence why they tolerate and even send books our way. Artifacts are a bit trickier, but we only handle the really extreme cases."

Seeing Flynn about to ask, Chris smirked.

"Think mass mind control or too dangerous to actually leave in the hands of people who hate normal folks like yourself. Thankfully we mostly handle the stuff created by normal folk who accidentally tap into magic...or happen to be old enough and acquire sentience through belief like Cal and Excalibur."

"I though Excalibur was the sword in the stone?" asked Flynn.

Chris snorted.

"Officially Excalibur was the sword in the stone. In reality people were doubting whether or not Arthur _actually_ pulled the sword out, and Caliburn got angry over something he did or said and left, so they had to make a replacement. Eventually some historian got the names mixed up, and next thing you know they forget about Cal."

Caliburn chittered at Chris unhappily. Chris patted it on the hilt.

"A week or two after I stumbled into this place through the service entrance, I found Cal stuck in a random rock that was heavily enchanted. I thought it was Excalibur, only to realize my error when the real one suddenly flew at me and started 'talking' with the sword in my hand. Around that time Judson found me, realized why I was able to break in so easily despite the heavy warding, and they let me stay. Since I was still a minor and was recognized as the caretaker of the special collection, they set me up with a basic room and got a pair of house elves bonded specifically to keep me alive since they didn't want me around the kitchen without supervision."

"What are..."

"Tipsy, Jenks! Come say hello to Flynn!" said Chris.

Flynn stared. They looked nothing like the elves he thought they were. More like malformed Brownie spirits.

They wore mismatching outfits, had long floppy ears and bulbous eyes. But both had a sense of pride and stood straight.

And they spoke perfect English.

"Are you needing anything, Master Chris?" asked Jenks, the older of the two elves. He wore orange and red clothes.

Tipsy had a slightly more psychedelic look.

"I just wanted to introduce you to Flynn Carson. He's the new guy," said Chris.

"Uh...hello."

"Word to the wise, never offer them clothes. It's a mortal insult to them, and if someone who is part of the bond gives them so much as even a sock it's considered a breach of contract and they leave. I found a way around that by telling them they were free to dress however they liked so long as it covered everything it should."

House elves liked bright colors and unusual patterns. Chris gave his free reign to design their uniform however they like, so long as they did their job. He treated them with respect and listened to them when they said something. But most importantly he gave them something to do.

A busy elf is a happy elf. And there was no way that two elves could possibly keep the entire Library collection dust free all the time.

Though Tipsy and Jenks certainly tried.

"So where exactly do you live now?"

"Annex twenty miles from Central City. I was here when that machine blew though. Right now I'm hunting down whatever idiot is causing the temporal waves to go bonkers."

Charlene gave him a look.

"We told you to take a vacation until you were old enough to act as the full Librarian again."

"And I am. I'm hunting down the time traveler on my off time, while enjoying the antics of the local hero up close. It's hilarious watching him learn how to use his speed the hard way. Though I suspect that the guy in charge of the explosion is the one I've been looking for. He gives me a bad vibe," said Chris.

"I'm confused," said Flynn.

Chris thought of how to put it. Then it hit him on the perfect example.

"Do you watch _Futurama_?"

"I've caught most of the episodes, why?"

"Do you remember the one where the crew and the professor end up in the past, and Fry accidentally kills his own grandfather only to _become_ his own grandfather?"

"Vaguely," agreed Flynn.

"Things like that send ripples in time. The bigger the ripple, the more damage can be caused. Someone from either the past or the future has come to this time, and is either stuck or is trying to cause trouble. The problem is that a common ancestor or descendant happens to be in the same place as the person who's time displaced, get me so far?"

"So time knows an anomaly is present in the city that could erase someone, and it's sending out warning signs to those who can sense it that a paradox event is at a high risk of happening?" guessed Flynn.

"Exactly. Either someone's ancestor is in Central City and is directly related to the time displaced traveler, or the ancestor of the present-day person is stuck in the present. Though I'm betting it's more of the former than the latter. The ripples are too big for someone from the past, and those generally fix itself after a few months if they aren't returned to their time."

Usually by time erasing the present descendant until the ancestor is returned to their time, or the ancestor dying because society is too different for them to handle and the descendant being erased anyway.

The future though...that was always in flux. A traveler from the future had a lot more leeway and was less likely to be erased unless the grandparent that would eventually sired him happened to die prematurely.

Charlene was giving Chris the evil look.

"I get bored. Figuring out who got stuck in this time period and what they're up to is enough to keep me from jumping back into my usual routine and provide enough reason to actually enjoy staying in one place," said Chris.

"Just don't call and expect us to fix your problem again."

"I dealt with Eiling on my own. He still got sent someplace where his bad habits won't annoy me," said Chris dismissively.

"Who's Eiling?"

"General Eiling, US Military. He's one of those 'everyone is out to get America' types who thinks that all the country needs to keep itself safe from everybody else is super soldiers. He's tried to find the classified files on the Library a few times before."

Flynn made a face.

"So how did you stop him?"

"Idiot didn't even notice I was recording his illegal op in Central City on a wounded vet. Unfortunately for him I have a direct line to the President. He was not happy when he found out what the General tried to pull on a soldier who had the bad luck to be turned into a living bomb because she was in Central city when the accelerator blew."

"You have a direct line to..."

"Charlene and Judson have one too. It's mostly to inform them of the Library's existence, and that any field ops we go on to retrieve artifacts or rare tomes is too classified to be handled by normal military. They aren't told where it is, only that what we do is important enough that we are given clearance to do a lot of things that most black ops can't touch. You'll get clearance if you hit the ten-year mark. That's generally when the Librarian is deemed senior enough to be given the direct line. Besides, how else do you explain the guards we have in the Library? Considering the fact that in the wrong hands, most of the collection could cause some serious danger, a little extra security is always welcomed."

Chris only had it because he was the special Librarian, and the current president happened to be a magical. His number was on a _lot_ of people's phones, especially in the Ministry.

After all, he was the one who approved and dispersed books thought lost. They had to have his number to plead their case if he denied access.

Chris felt his surprise visit to the Library (and subsequent near heart attack on the guy who had to replace him for a few years) had been a complete success. It wasn't a good thing for the Librarian to be completely ignorant of the magical communities, if only because dealing with them was _his_ responsibility.

Just as dealing with all magical artifacts (like Excalibur and Caliburn) were Chris' problem.

Flynn was still a rookie. He had plenty of time to learn the ropes while Chris had his vacation, and if anything happened he was literally a call (and a few short steps Between) away.

* * *

When he got back to the lab (finding it slightly dusty since he had been gone for a few days) it was to discover that Barry had somehow lost his speed.

Chris felt he could perform his good deed for the month and help the poor kid out.

It was ironic that despite the fact he was physically older than him, Chris felt Barry was younger.

"So, you feeling useless because you lost your speed?" said Chris, handing Barry a drink. It was tea, since Chris _hated_ coffee.

Barry accepted it, looking downcast. He didn't notice Chris placing a general glamour around them so Wells couldn't hear anything important.

The poor kid looked so miserable that Chris couldn't help but throw him a bone.

"Tell me Barry, do you know why you get tossed around so much?"

"Because I'm not fast enough?"

"Because you lack control," Chris gently corrected. "I'm not saying it's your fault. Wells seems abnormally interested in making you faster without emphasizing the control aspect. Some speedsters, when they get fast enough, can even go so fast that they travel through time."

It was actually the main reason Chris suspected Wells was his errant time traveler. That and the general bad vibe he was getting. So long as it looked like he wanted to go back to his time and didn't cause too much havoc, he was willing to overlook it. However the first sign he was up to something bad, Chris would step on him. Hard.

"Really?" said Barry.

"Dude, you haven't even tapped into a fraction of what a real speedster can do. For example if you can get enough friction built up from speed, you can throw lightning."

"Seriously?"

"Think static shock on overdrive. Not to mention you can create vacuums to suck out air and stop fires," said Chris.

 _Or fly with a modified glider,_ he mentally added.

Seeing he had Barry's full attention, Chris patted him on the shoulder.

"You have only just begun to tap into what you can do with enough speed. Sometimes you need to focus on more than just getting faster."

He dropped the glamour, leaving Barry with something to think about.

A few days after he got his speed back, Chris saw him working on his control...or at least trying to anyway.

Sadly the only thing he did know how to do was increase his speed. Wells had never covered the other tricks he could do. Seeing Barry crash into the barrels, Chris shook his head.

He could either watch Barry fail miserably or give him tips.

Which was why he handed Barry something full of sugar and supposed electrolytes. In reality he believed _Gatorade_ was just Kool-aid with a few additives to make it taste better.

"Thanks. What are you doing here?"

Chris hit upon an idea of how to cover his abilities, even if it was complete bullshit.

"Barry, think upon this if you will. How long have I been working as the janitor of S.T.A.R. Labs?"

Barry blinked before what Chris was insinuating hit him like a brick.

"You're a metahuman too?"

"Unlike you, I was awake for nine months and I've been too busy learning control to bother with my hobby so no one really picked up on it."

All completely true without claiming he was here for the blast. He was only insinuating that he had been exposed.

"What's your power?" asked Barry.

Chris hit upon the perfect cover for his 'ability' and made it easier to hide how he could get to work when he didn't even have a car.

"Watch."

Within three steps, Chris went from next to Barry to the other end of the field without producing any real effect to explain it. One moment he was there and the next he wasn't.

"So you're a teleporter?"

"I hate driving. I can tolerate bikes, but I get car sick," said Chris sheepishly. All completely true, save for the fact that until a few years ago he was technically too young to legally drive in the first place.

His ID claimed he was 21, but he still had a few months before he was able to legally drink.

Not that it really stopped him. He usually hit the magical enclaves, who didn't really _have_ an age-limit. It was assumed that they'd learn the wonders of hangovers before they were even eighteen, and were considered adults before they were old enough in the normal world. A fact most first gens tended to capitalize on once they figured that bit out.

Why else would someone sell Butterscotch flavored soda with a splash of alcohol to add warmth to thirteen year old students?

Barry accepted his explanation, and naturally the trio had to have a demonstration.

Chris was so used to going Between he barely felt the cold anymore.

Caitlin looked so amusing as she fumed about her instruments not getting an accurate measure of his vitals when he did it. Cisco looked equally annoyed that all his toys didn't work.

Chris didn't have the heart to tell them about magic. Not while he suspected Wells to be a time displaced speedster pretending to be a paraplegic.

Besides, if he was a speedster from the future, he might have heard of the Librarian. No need to tip him off.


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm giving a hint as to what the pairing will be at the end of the chapter. And before any of you ask, it's not a super heroine, guy or anyone from England.**

* * *

Chris couldn't help but hide a grin as he subtly gave Barry tips on things Wells certainly wasn't going to teach him. After all, if he was right and Wells was a time traveler that was stuck, he would be more interested in Barry going fast enough to break the time barrier than the little things that made life interesting.

The blast zone Barry left with his super speed was starting to inch into a smaller radius.

Chris couldn't count the number of times he had to re-shelve books before he figured out how to minimize that. On the plus side, he learned the Library's filing system very quickly and could usually find what he needed within an hour or so, compared to the several hours that Flynn had to spend looking something up. And that was _without_ super speed on his side.

Wells seemed to take his teleport ability for granted, not seeing it as very important considering Chris didn't really give off the air of someone who knew how to fight, much less be of use.

And really, outside of cleaning the place, none of them took Chris seriously. They thought of him as furniture, for some strange reason, just because he wasn't that interested in discussing physics with them.

Honestly, people could be idiots sometimes.

"So you're the one who told Barry he can make copies of himself if he goes fast enough."

Joe was giving Chris an odd look.

"Not my fault if they think my only power is to teleport."

Or that he let them believe he had gained his from the accelerator and not a freak accident involving lightning.

He wasn't afraid of lightning, though there was an interesting incident in which he gave his minders (Judson and Charlene) a near heart attack by attempting to race _up_ a bolt of lightning. He had a bad case of lingering static shock for two whole weeks, and a broken leg that took three days to heal when he realized no, he couldn't RUN up lightning, but outside that the most he got was a mild shock in his feet.

He would always claim he was loopy on the medicine they gave him because he had a nasty cold (being muggles they couldn't procure a bottle of Pepper-Up potion), but the truth was that he did it to simply see if he could.

Even if the answer was no.

Especially if the answer was likely to be no.

Joe gave him a look, before Chris subtly took out his phone and tapped the area where the camera was twice. He got the hint after a few seconds. As Chris left for a hot beverage (away from Jitters) Joe decided to question the odd janitor.

"So who are you really?"

"A bored librarian who was told to enjoy my youth and decided to stick around because the temporal waves have been going haywire since I stepped foot in the city," deadpanned Chris. Sometimes the best defense was to throw people for a loop with the truth.

Joe gave him an unimpressed look.

"Or I could be a miracle child who survived lightning and had horrific scars until I came to Central City and got accelerated healing because of that stupid machine blowing up and decided to enjoy it."

That Joe seemed to believe.

"Besides, no one ever pays attention to the help, especially if they go out of their way to be uninteresting. I think the only reason Cisco even remembered my name after the first week was because I pranked that ass of a protege Wells kept before he almost busted him."

"Wells had a protege?"

"Some young hot shot called Hartley. Always acted so smug because he was a genius and I was a lowly janitor. Major asshole."

Chris always tuned him out when Hartley went on a roll explaining his superiority to a lowly janitor for several reasons.

He was independently wealthy, had a much better job that gave him more influence and respect than Hartley would ever manage in his lifetime (not that he could after outing himself to his parents), and he didn't feel the need to lower himself to a child who felt he had bragging rights because his ego demanded others pandered to him.

Besides, Chris usually imagined Cal kicking the pompous brat's ass whenever he got too annoying. It always seemed to cheer him up.

Joe eyed him oddly.

"You're a speedster like Barry."

"I got my powers years before the accident, but I find it funny to watch him learn the hard way. Besides, if the other speedster who murdered Nora Allen found out I had the same powers, he might just kill Barry and try to force me into playing Barry's part."

Barry had a support system. He had a well respected job, was surrounded by cops most of the time and had people who would most certainly ask questions that the bad guys rarely wanted answered if anything happened to him.

Chris had almost none outside of Judson and Charlene, and they were in New York. He was also younger, had a low-paying job and had never gone to college.

To put it bluntly, Chris was a much more tempting target for a rogue speedster who had lost a good chunk of his powers than Barry was. Especially since he had far more experience beyond just going faster, even if no one knew that at the moment.

Chris frowned into his tea.

"Besides... the yellow speedster is technically Barry's problem, and I can't see him being happy with someone else dealing with that man before he gets a confession."

"So you have any ideas who it is?"

"Again, not my problem unless he does something that makes him more trouble than it's worth to ignore his existence. If Barry figures it out and decides to do something, that's his prerogative. I plan to just enjoy the show and give out enough hints on how to actually learn to use the really fun stuff."

Like lightning. Or the afterimage trick that made people doubt which one was real. Or any number of little tricks he had learned since he had never really been concerned with speed.

Why care about how fast you were on the ground when with a little effort and the right equipment you could fly wherever you wanted? Not to mention going Between solved the issue of distance nicely, even if it was very cold.

And he had only traveled through time _once_ using speed. Honestly the ripple effect and backlash wasn't worth doing it unless absolutely necessary. Not to mention the fact that Charlene had grounded him for a full month from using his speed to do anything when she found out.

He stole one artifact from that idiot Savage _once_ before the man even got there, and had to listen to a complete bitchfest because of the ripples it caused.

And that was _before_ the Time Masters tried to cow him into leaving the time line alone.

Honestly, if they hadn't show up to complain and tell him off for a minor disturbance in the time line that set Vandal Savage back a few years at most, he never would have figured out that the whole lot of them were working to help the immortal.

Well, that and he went looking into who they were to tell him off, leading him to discover that little tidbit.

Never underestimate a _Doctor Who_ fan with the world's largest library and access to unlimited internet that could speed read.

If the Doctor couldn't hide his presence in history on his favorite planet, how did a bunch of old geezers with dubious motives expect to pull it off?

* * *

Chris looked at Captain Cold and Heat Wave, aka Leonard Snart and Mick Rory.

"Am I supposed to be impressed that you kidnapped me as a hostage?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cisco, he could understand, but kidnapping him? It didn't really add up, especially with a calculated planner like Snart.

Snart looked at Chris and a subtle sort of communication passed between them. That and a look of recognition.

"I thought I remembered you. You're the Librarian," said Snart.

"And you're one of the people I prefer to hire to steal from idiots who are too busy looking for me to show up and not a thief who isn't afraid to freeze them out permanently."

Charlene wasn't aware of this (or she pretended not to notice) but whenever there was a scheduling issue...or more often than not an issue with an overly mothering/fan girl being present with the people who were after an artifact/book... Chris had the unusual habit of outsourcing.

Personally he blamed reading the Evil Overlord List and getting ideas. Why risk losing what he was after when he could act as a distraction and get an actual thief to steal it for him with a bit of gold?

It was a ploy that no one saw coming, because the ones he usually worked with rarely recognized him until _after_ they handed it over.

And Chris paid very well, considering what he was hiring them for.

Snart untied Chris, to Mick's confusion.

"We're just letting him go?"

"No. If I know him, he's mostly working for them out of boredom or some other ploy. And he has access to even more interesting toys than the guns," said Snart.

He had an oddly amicable relationship with Snart. He had several safe houses set up as drop off points, and he kept them well stocked with enough medicine to keep a small clinic operating for at least a month.

Sometimes the people he hired to steal for him were injured, and letting them help themselves to his medical supplies was a small price to pay for 'good service' as it were.

After the number of times Chris went with him and anyone they scrounged up for a retrieval mission, Snart practically considered him part of his crew. An odd one, to be fair, but still someone he'd trust to deal with the...unusual...heists he thought might involve magic.

Mick looked confused but more than eager to set things on fire.

Chris had a rather impish expression.

"So is he really as big a pyro as the rumors claim?" he asked Snart.

"I gave him that gun for a reason," deadpanned Snart.

"Give me five seconds to give him some alcohol and candy he's going to really love," said Chris, grinning evilly.

He disappeared and returned with an amber-colored liquid in an obvious liquor bottle and a box labeled "Pepper Imps". He handed them to Mick.

"That right there is something called Firewhiskey. If consumed in the right amount of time, it can literally give someone fire breath for ten full seconds. Drinking too much does tend to set people who drink it on fire, though it doesn't cause burns outside of a mild tingling sensation. And those are Pepper Imps. Eating those allow you to breath small bursts of fire to scare people."

Mick gave the bottle a renewed interest.

"And these are fireworks banned in the US for potentially causing too much fire damage from wayward sparks, but are perfectly legal to own in China. Feel free to launch them at the Flash, he needs to learn how to dodge at high speeds properly," said Chris far too cheerfully.

Mick had a wicked smirk on his face.

"I can see why you like him now!"

"That and he pays well for small jobs," said Snart.

He didn't ask questions about how Snart did things or why he needed certain items that usually weren't used in the job. All he asked was that innocent casualties were kept to a bare minimum and he made sure to include an incentive to make sure it stayed that way.

Besides, Chris was rarely, if ever, stingy with the gold or unmarked bills he paid with.

"So how did the infamous Librarian end up as a janitor?"

"Eh, I think Wells is a displaced time traveler and someone in the city is his ancestor. Or his descendant, but I'm pretty sure his ancestor. The ripples kept coming from the labs, and no one ever really looks at the janitor except when expensive things go missing."

Case in point, Cisco's hot and cold guns.

"Time travel, huh?" said Mick, already trying out the strange liquor. He was already experiencing a stronger kick than normal alcohol, and there were little wisps of fire coming out.

"I've seen stranger," admitted Snart. "And how do you know it's his ancestor?"

"Time displacement follows certain rules. The future is malleable, but the more you meddle in the past the more the present is effected. But it's mostly because if it was someone from the past, then the time ripples would have dealt with the issue by erasing the descendant within a few months. Considering the amount I've been feeling, it's far more likely someone from the future got stuck and can't find their way back," admitted Chris.

Snart believed him. He had seen far too many things working for Chris to not at least give him some leniency with the impossible. Well that and his explanation did make a basic sort of sense.

If someone was removed from the past, then the present descendant wouldn't be born, never mind the rest of that line. So removing the anomaly would preserve time until the ancestor was taken back. But the future was different. If they weren't born, then there was no reason to remove anyone so long as the one ancestor remained. Take them out, and you took the entire line out to the one who got stuck.

Or as Chris liked to call it, the Paradox-Effect.

Chris pretended to be tied up when Barry arrived. Snart knew he was mostly humoring them so Flash and his merry band of so-called geniuses didn't suspect he knew Snart on a professional level.

Though really, Snart mainly respected him because the first time he met Chris, the sixteen-year-old had literally pick pocketed him after shaking his hand, and it had taken ten full minutes for Snart to realize it.

It wasn't that hard for Snart to respect a fellow thief who was at least professional and listened to him. Even if it was a bit awkward watching his sister hug the teen to death when she realized how adorably cutthroat Chris was while they were working together.

She really needed a new hobby...or a boyfriend he wouldn't automatically attempt to kill for getting near his sister. He was almost tempted to set her up with Chris, if he could get away with it. She liked him enough and the age difference wasn't too bad...


	8. Chapter 8

Chris was about to head in for work when he got the call from Judson. Apparently someone had sent Flynn the only map to Solomon's Mines, and since the spells to summon and control demons were never actually recovered, there was a high chance they might be inside the legendary Mines.

That and Flynn would probably like a familiar face for emotional support.

Fortunately after a rather minor issue of Cisco somehow finding a file on Chris as being a member of Snart's crew, he had found himself without "meaningful employment" as it were.

He was getting sick of that lab anyway, and they had his number if they needed any extra help. Considering they still hadn't found the Reverse Flash, and they knew he could teleport, odds were they'd call him eventually.

He grabbed his travel kit, Cal, and his modified glider.

Considering what they were going after, he knew that extra firepower wouldn't go amiss.

"Hey Cold, I have an interesting assignment I thought you'd enjoy... it's an almost guarantee that Mick will be able to set things on fire..."

Chris listened to the other end, and grinned.

"You know the agreement, you act as support and in exchange I'll look the other way if you do any looting of nonmagical items like coins and artifacts."

Judson and Charlene hired people to work as back up for the Librarian all the time. Often they were too wrapped up in the whole protection bit to be of any real use.

Chris hired people he knew could act professional and still have an open mind about what they were doing at the time. Snart was one of his preferred crooks to hire.

So long as he was paid and Chris listened to him while they were in the middle of a heist, they got along great.

Well, that and Chris really didn't care if Snart robbed people or did a little judicious looting in the sites with more than just the artifact they were after. More often than not they got a hefty payday in the form of coin collectors who were more than happy to shell out a ton of cash just for a few measly coins...and the cops couldn't touch them.

Though if one were to ask why they got along so well, the reality was that Snart recognized him as a fellow thief, though he was a minor one. It never hurt to have friends in high places, and Chris didn't mind abusing his powers as Librarian to get them out of prison.

Chris grinned as he made plans with Snart to meet at a private air strip. Since he could afford it, Charlene often made _him_ pay for his plane tickets...and other expenses.

To be fair, at least he didn't have to be nearly as anal retentive about the receipts as Charlene was with Flynn. And people were less likely to go looking into the private accounts of someone with a large inheritance than they were a guy living well outside his means...like Flynn was, considering this was the first (and only) real job he'd ever had. He only recently moved out of his mother's house for crying out loud.

* * *

 _A few hours later..._

"Yo Leo! Over here!" said Chris, waiving at Snart and the others. Lisa had recently gotten an upgrade of her own, and Mick looked decidedly bored.

"So I hear we're going after some old legend again," said Leonard.

"King Solomon's Mines. Remember if it doesn't turn red, you're free to loot it. And only kill those stupid enough to try and come after us first."

Chris always hit the places they found themselves in with a spell to illuminate magic. If it turned red, it was touched by magic and had to be treated with caution. If it turned blue, there was a potion on it. Green was poison. If nothing happened, then it was safe for Leonard to steal without any side effects.

Considering half the crap he had seen since Chris started hiring him as security/extra hands, Leonard was willing to listen to Chris when it came to magic and other things.

"So I'm being paid to burn stuff."

"You get to set anyone stupid enough to try and kill us on fire, and I tend to look the other way if you loot the area we're in so long as there's no active magic or anything else on it. If it's not a weird color after I've hit it with the light, then it's safe for you to steal. Just leave any scrolls, papyrus or books to me," said Chris.

Mick looked decidedly happy about the idea. Bodyguarding wasn't his thing, but this was one time he didn't mind. He was being paid to steal and set things on fire.

"Well, let's head to Morocco. Flynn should be there already since he was sent on ahead. This is more his quest and we're there to insure that certain artifacts and books are kept safe," said Chris.

"Like the movie?" said Lisa.

Chris held up a DVD copy of _Casablanca_ , and she grinned.

"Oh, and there's free booze in the plane. Help yourself, but if you drink too much and get a hangover it's on you," said Chris.

He tossed a box of Ice Mice to Snart, which had Lisa snickering.

* * *

Chris was about out of the air port when he saw him.

"Flynn! Over here!"

"Chris? What are you..."

"Judson thought you might need emotional support. Also, I brought back up in case things get...dicey."

"Well you're a bit late for that," said the woman next to Flynn.

"Let me rephrase that. I brought thugs of our own so that the idiots trying to find King Solomon's Mines will think twice about coming after us. So long as they're paid and allowed to do some harmless looting, they'll keep us alive," said Chris.

"Harmless looting?" repeated the woman furious.

"By harmless I mean things like coins and minor objects they can carry easily and sell to collectors. I get the books and artifacts that are too dangerous for public knowledge. Snart's cold, but he's good at what he does. And try not to punch Mick unless he pisses you off too much."

She still looked angry at the idea.

"So where are we headed?"

"Africa."

As they boarded the plane and everyone settled in (mostly introductions) Flynn tried to make small talk.

"So...what exactly do you three do?"

"We're thieves. Who better to steal back some ancient artifact than people who steal for a living in the first place?" said Snart with a cold smirk.

"I like to set things on fire," said Mick, far too cheerfully considering the subject.

Chris snorted.

"They're anti-heroes. They aren't completely evil, but they sure as hell won't help the superhero they deal with regularly without something being in it for them. I hire them because they're professional and Snart rarely shoots the people he's working with in the back unless they betray him first. It's easier to collect the artifacts when I play the distraction and he does the actual stealing," clarified Chris. Then he changed the subject. "So what is it you do Ms. Davenport?"

"I'm an archaeologist. I have a particularly strong interest in the mythical Queen of Sheba."

Lisa perked up at that.

"Wasn't she supposed to be King Solomon's equal in power?"

Chris hit upon the perfect way to spend the flight.

"I have liquor and a rather extensive snack bar near the front. Feel free to hit it while you explain about Sheba to her," said Chris helpfully.

"Don't forget the full bathroom near the back, along with a decent selection of clothing," added Lisa. She had hit the closet for things in her size and was very happy to find it was well stocked with outfits she was going to be 'borrowing'. Knowing Chris he could care less if she kept them.

"Full bathroom?" said Flynn in disbelief. Charlene got on his ass if he forgot so much as a single receipt. How the _hell_ did Chris earn a private plane with a full bathroom, bar and kitchen?

Chris smirked at him.

"I come from old blood and even older money. Money that got an upgrade thanks to investments and the fact that I dealt with an...internal...issue in England as a personal favor to the Queen. As a result my family titles got upgrade."

Flynn stared at him.

"Seriously?"

"Well, apparently I had the titles waiting for me when I turned eighteen, but I left before I got stuck with that mess and only came back because they asked. I much rather be a Librarian than a Marquis."

"What's a marquis?" asked Mick.

"It's the highest rank one can obtain short of Prince in English nobility," said Flynn helpfully.

"Originally it was count, but the Queen felt that since I was basically cleaning house and odds were I wouldn't use it much anyway, it was safe to skip a level or two in nobility," said Chris grinning.

"I heard the word full bathroom and open closet," said Emily.

"Feel free," said Chris.

Emily made a beeline for the showers, as the quick one she had taken hadn't done much to deal with the smell.

Lisa was grinning.

"I like her," she said.

"So who's plane is this?" asked Flynn.

"Mine. It's easier to get around for Library business and not have to hear Charlene demand receipts. I pay most of my own expenses, since I make most of these excursions up in the interest," said Chris.

"That is so unfair," said Flynn.

"You do realize that you could have just asked to use the Library jet to get around right? Or the many, many safe houses in most major countries to relax for a few days to regroup?"

"Charlene just hands me tickets and shoves me out the door," complained Flynn.

"I'll tell Charlene you can borrow the plane to get around. That should get her off some of the expenses," said Chris sympathetically.

* * *

Mick wasn't in the best of moods, but it improved when he saw the thugs outside the fortune teller's house.

Well that, and the fact that they didn't have to suffer the "newlywed bus" like Flynn, Davenport, Lisa and Chris.

Snart was surprisingly calm about the idea of claiming Chris as his "brother-in-law" and letting them act like newlyweds.

"So why are you letting your sister cozy up to the bookworm?"

"Chris is practically family at this point, and I'd rather she date him than that Cisco kid. At least Chris has style and something to fall back on."

Because of the fact that she did occasionally help the Library, Lisa might one day have _limited_ access to the Library. Very limited. As in she could visit the Annex without the wards or the security system going off. However she would have to remain under escort if she visited the main collections.

Most spouses of Librarians or those who worked for the Library in an official capacity like Charlene were rarely, if ever told the truth about what they did. It was part of the reason Charlene was forced to get a divorce.

It was also the source of why Flynn could not hold a single girlfriend since becoming employed.

Mick looked at his longtime partner/brother in everything but blood.

Chris was his kind of friend and employer. He was a smart ass who could move in their world even while pretending he was squeaky clean. He had the right sort of mindset and was very loyal. He was also quite happy to supply booze, money and whatever they needed to get what was needed done.

And while he wasn't a killer...yet...he wasn't squeamish.

Besides, when he said he'd pay them, he paid them...sometimes with a little extra.

And while he wasn't too thrilled about hiking it after the drive, he was glad to have a chance to set something on fire. A bunch of thugs tried to give him the bum's rush to get to Flynn.

Tried, being the operative word.

His insane look of glee using his gun on some hired thugs made most people back away from him. Especially when Snart brought out his cold gun into the mix.

Judging by the way his bag was bulging a little, he had done a little pick pocketing while he was at it.

Mick was rather happy with himself.

* * *

Chris only had to hear the words "private import/export business" before his mind mentally translated the real name of this "Uncle Jerry's" job.

He was a smuggler.

"What do you think?" asked Chris to Snart. They had their own rooms paid by Chris.

"Smuggler."

"Yeah, besides that. You think he's the one who's the backing behind the bunch of idiots Mick fried?" asked Chris.

Snart leaned back a bit and observed this "Jerry". After a few moments he looked at Chris.

"Almost certainly. He'll use the rookie's emotional attachment to him as a way to get in close, but he's going to be ruthless enough to dispose of him and his female friend if necessary. The only question is the angle," said Snart.

"I have a possible one. Flynn made some joking comment about how his dad managed to snag his mother from Jerry years ago while they were in the service. Now considering how close this Jerry is to the family, going by him, I'd say he still harbors feelings for Flynn's mother. Enough that he might be willing to exploit an artifact in order to change things."

"What exactly does this book do? Control demons?" asked Lisa.

"No, from what my research tells me that was a trait of his family line that he was particularly good at. This artifact can potentially change time and space. Apparently it's powered by a natural leyline and the souls of the dead in the mines. I saw references of the ceremony area being near an open lava pool and a tomb. Flynn can handle that mess while we investigate the place for the rest of it."

"I have a question. How exactly are we going to sell any coins we come across?" asked Mick.

"We haul the coins out, Chris slowly filters them through the collectors at the best price along with a few museums, and then he puts all the money that they pay into discreet Swiss accounts that are tied to cards only we can control. He can put money in, but not out," said Snart.

"Wait, he takes the coins?" said Mick.

"Let's face it, with your backgrounds anyone you take the coins or other artifacts to are going to be suspicious of them being stolen goods, thus lowering the price considerably. Because of who I am, I can have them authenticated by three separate sources and sell them to the highest bidders. And lets face it, none of you are very much interested in having to deal with the deep web once the collectors and the private museums have been hit," said Chris cheerfully.

He got more from private collectors on the deep web and the occasional surface web than he did from auction sites.

Besides, he had a really good coin collection going right now.

Mick knocked back another beer.

"Hell, so long as I get paid and don't get stiffed I could care less."


	9. Chapter 9

Chris, the Snart siblings, and Mick were able to duck into a side room and hide under a spell while the thugs came in. Sure enough, it didn't take much for Flynn and his new female friend to be captured and subsequently thrown into a pit that was rapidly filling with water.

Once Jerry was sufficiently distracted with the ceremony, Snart and Mick went to work. Namely disabling or disposing of the thugs. They didn't stand a chance against the hot and cold guns.

Meanwhile Lisa and Chris were cataloging and collecting a good chunk of the treasure in the first room.

Chris was also taking plenty of pictures of the relief in the back.

By the time most of the thugs had been dealt with, Jomo, the man Flynn and Emily had helped had managed to get them out, though it didn't hurt that Snart found the lever Jerry used to fill the room with water.

"What's the verdict?" asked Snart.

"We're good to go. Even if this place blows up, at least these will survive," said Chris, holding up his bag full of scrolls from Alexandria.

"The rookie and his girl are dealing with the smuggler," said Snart.

"Which means we don't really need to get involved. Flynn has to figure out how to end this on his own, and if he can't...well, that's what time travel is for," said Chris.

He loved his super speed.

* * *

Chris was making kissing sounds behind Flynn's back while he said goodbye to the rather attractive archaeologist. Lisa was snickering next to him.

Mick was in his happy place. He got to set things on fire and he got to watch a volcano partially explode.

Snart was happy because he had been subtly pushing his sister towards Chris, and he was rather pleased that there had been positive results on that end.

He knew Chris wouldn't hurt his sister, and he could easily support Lisa. Chris absolutely _hated_ it when they ran across abuse cases, especially children. It didn't hurt that he had told Snart about his past, or that he had researched the child abuse case in Surrey.

Besides, who would say no to having their sister marry into _actual_ nobility? They had access to all the best things to steal!

Chris made with the innocent face when Flynn turned around, completely unaware that Chris had been mocking him. Emily had seen it, but she had been too amused to say anything.

They were heading back to New York...well, Flynn was. Chris was giving Snart and the others a lift back to Central City. He was already sending out the usual inquiries to the people he had to authenticate the coins for him...after selecting which ones he'd keep for his own collection of course.

Flynn was almost completely settled in for a long nap when he felt something dropped onto his lap.

"What's this?"

"Oh nothing...just some scrolls you'll be translating once you're back home," said Chris far too cheerfully.

"What?!"

"Come on Carson, you _are_ a Librarian. We have to authenticate the scrolls and then see if they're Library material or not. If they are, they'll be put in with the normal collection, if not I'll be making some discreet sales to museums and certain universities within months. How did you _think_ the Library pays us? It's not from a bunch of private benefactors," said Chris.

Charlene wasn't getting any younger, and this was something she usually considered a perfect punishment for when Chris messed up. He had to keep track of the budget and make the discreet sales of book copies in order to keep up the funding of the Library, since the members generally agreed using the artifacts for monetary value was bad form.

Chris was lucky he came from old money, but he still had to learn this.

As a member of Nobility and the owner of a lot of cash, he was one of the rare Librarians heavily encouraged to marry. If not, well a good chunk of his gold would head to the Library before any random relatives tried to claim it.

It was already in his will, written and signed when he started taking missions outside the Library as a proper member.

Flynn did not look happy, but Chris was positively grinning. He had the easy job.

He just had to translate and see if the scrolls were too dangerous for public consumption, in between missions.

Considering they had a high turnover rate of 'assistants' to the Librarian recently, it would be a while before they could have a select staff who could collect the artifacts and give Flynn a chance to breathe.

* * *

Chris was in Jitters, borrowing their WiFi with the most secure laptop available (the firewalls were so advanced that they weren't even developed yet and protected by magic) doing his _real_ job and insuring Mick and the Snart siblings were giving their proper share for partially looting the mines before it blew.

If it weren't for his almost iron control of his emotions, Chris would have blushed at the thought of Lisa. He might be practically a monk (thank you lack of real social life) but even he would admit that she was beyond hot and his type.

On the major plus side, Lisa already liked him and her brother had been subtly hinting that if Chris wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with his sister he would definitely acknowledge Chris as "approved boyfriend material" for his baby sister.

Besides, if anyone knew what it was like to grow up in a abusive home life, it was Chris. When he found out what their dad had been like, he hadn't shown an ounce of pity or compassion about the matter.

Instead he started comparing battle scars (both emotional, physical and mental) in a flat voice that said he wasn't looking for any damn sympathy or pity from either sibling...though he was very envious that Lisa at least had Leonard to be there growing up.

It was actually one of the main reasons they just clicked, and why Leonard thought of Chris as practically family. He wasn't going to coddle the kid or treat him special. But he would trust Chris with his back and to be there when he genuinely needed him. Or if Lisa needed him.

It was somewhat sad that the closest thing he came to a family was a pair of criminal siblings from an almost equally abusive household.

He was finishing a sale of a papyrus from the mines to a university when his "public" phone went off.

"Go for Chris. If this is a telemarketer expect bad things to happen to you within a week," said Chris without looking at who it was.

He blinked when he realized it was Cisco. Despite finding out that Chris often worked with Snart, he still trusted him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what? Could you repeat that at a slower and more clear rate?" said Chris.

A few minutes later, Chris logged out and was already going Between straight to the lab.

Caitlin yelped.

"Don't _do_ that!"

"But how will I freak you out if I don't?" he asked, cocking his head. Cisco and Barry snickered. "So Wells is a time traveling pain in the ass? Future or Past?"

"Future," said Barry.

"Called it. Good thing I never let him find out what I could really do, otherwise this could have gotten worse already," said Chris.

"Wait, you knew?" said Caitlin.

"Of course I knew. There were temporal waves all over the damn city for _months_ now, and generally the only reason they don't dissipate after a month or two is if some poor bastard from the future gets stuck. Especially if a direct ancestor is in the same general area, usually within fifty miles. So who did Wells kidnap?"

"Eddie Thawne," said Barry tightly. "His real name is Eobard Thawne."

"Which means Eddie is his many times great grandfather. Talk about bad luck. I take it you've already cased the city trying to find Reverse Flash or whatever he's calling himself?"

"There's no sign of Eddie anywhere, and Thawne nearly killed us with Grodd."

"Well...not everywhere," said Chris, almost shiftily.

"So what's your meta-name?" asked Cisco.

"Really?" complained Caitlin.

"It's Speed Reader. Hell, even Leonard calls me that," said Chris. Seeing their confusion, he clarified "Captain Cold."

"Speed Reader?" repeated Cisco, as if he thought it was something of a lame code name.

Chris smirked.

Then he held up a single hand and vibrated it in a very _familiar_ manner.

"Speedster. Unlike Barry, I've had _years_ of practice. And since I work in a Library, I got a lot of practice doing research and shelving books."

"Wait, the particle accelerator wasn't even _invented_ until a few years ago. How could you already have..." said Caitlin.

"You're not a time traveler too are you?" asked Barry.

"Hell no. Have none of you seriously wondered why my name is so weird or hard to pronounce? Astraphobos isn't exactly a normal name you know," said Chris rolling his eyes.

"Oh my god. I can't believe I didn't see it before," said Caitlin. She almost looked exasperated for missing something so obvious.

"What?"

"Astraphobos. Phobos is one of the sons of Ares, and is the origin of the word 'phobia'. It literally means 'fear' in Greek," said Chris helpfully.

"Astraphobos. As in Astra _phobia_ , or the fear of thunder and lightning," clarified Caitlin.

"Seriously? Why isn't that your meta-name?" said Cisco.

"I'm a speedster that lives and works at a Library. What better name than Speed Reader? Besides, if Reverse Flash knew about my actual powers odds are he'd kill Barry and use a more experienced Speedster to get him back home instead," deadpanned Chris.

"What?" yelped Caitlin and Cisco.

Chris rolled his eyes.

"Lets look at the facts, shall we? Barry has a family, works around cops and has a stable home life with people who will ask questions if something bad happened to him and is relatively well respected. Whereas I am and English orphan with no real relatives, live alone, and as far as most people are concerned have never been anything more than a janitor. Never mind that I've got more control and a better grasp on my powers than Barry, or that I can time travel with ease considering I've done more than simply _go faster_. Who makes the more appealing target?" said Chris sarcastically.

"He has a point," said Barry reluctantly.

"Besides, if this Eobard Thawne knew exactly what my job was he wouldn't hesitate to try and make me help him," said Chris cheerfully. "There's a reason why Snart and I have a _working_ relationship that hasn't gotten me a criminal record yet."

"How can a librarian have a working relationship with a criminal like Captain Cold?" asked Cisco incredulous.

Chris snickered evilly.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you. So why'd you call me anyway?"

"We need your help transporting the metas in the cells to a remote island. The police aren't going to help, since we're technically holding them illegally," said Joe.

"I'll need to see the island before I can take them Between there. Downsides of being able to go anywhere. I have to know where it is and what it looks like," said Chris.

That and he had other plans for the more...murderous...metas they had in those cells.

"I'll see if Oliver has pictures. Er, I mean..." stammered Barry.

"Dude, I know more superheroes identities than _you_ do. Hell, I even know what a Time Master is and about a pair of very unlucky reincarnating hawk gods and their immortal killer," said Chris rolling his eyes. "Odds are Oliver Queen will recognize me pretty damn fast if we ran into each other. Besides... I make way more than he does with half the crap he goes through."

Joe snorted...before he realized Chris did _not_ look like he was joking.

"Seriously? Queen is one of the richest guys in America. How the hell can you top his bank account?"

"Old blood, even older money and the Queen liked me enough to give me an upgrade when I cleaned house. Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do late at night and I make _really_ good investments. That and my actual job leaves a lot of opportunity to make some serious cash."

Seeing they didn't believe him, Chris smirked.

"Move over for a minute Cisco. I need to check if the money transferred into the right accounts anyway," said Chris.

Cisco dutifully moved over while Barry made an inquiry to Oliver about pictures of the island so Chris could 'teleport' prisoners there.

Hearing Cisco choke, Barry looked at the screen and nearly choked himself. That was a _lot_ of zeroes.

Which only lead to a rather...interesting...moment when Barry sent a picture of Chris to Felicity so Oliver could see who they were talking about, and Oliver sounding slightly hysterical asking them what the hell they were up to that would require _him_ to help them.

Apparently Chris wasn't kidding about Oliver recognizing him rather quickly...


	10. Chapter 10

Leonard gave Chris the evil eye when he saw him.

"I thought we agreed a week's vacation from each other between jobs?"

"I'm not the one hiring you. Barry is. Besides, I still have to hand over your share of the last job anyway," said Chris cheerfully. He handed Snart a card with a series of numbers, and Leonard's foul mood lifted slightly.

The card had the account number of the money that would be coming in from the sale of the coins. He always waited a few months before handing out the accounts and he never used the same one twice. Mostly to prevent his associates from being tracked down and killed by those after the artifacts.

Because Chris was so well known among the antique and history collecting communities, they generally took his word on the authenticity of the things he was selling. The fact he authenticated it three times to verify it was the real thing was just bonus, as it was highly unlikely that anyone could slip a fake past _three_ highly respected professionals.

Hence why he was able to sell coins relatively quickly. Though the most that was in the account at the moment was what Chris already owed him for coming in the first place. The rest would come later.

"So what's the job?"

"Remember how I mentioned there was a time traveler in Central City? It turns out I was right and Wells is the poor bastard stuck here. He plans to turn on the accelerator again to try and get back to his time and use Barry's speed to open a time portal. The problem is that the accelerator is currently housing a few dangerous metas, and they'll die if it's turned on. And I don't know about you, but I'm somewhat tired of the competition with the meta-Rogues already _in_ Central city," said Chris flatly. He was quite skilled with gisting.

"Wait, _Snart_ already knew about the time traveler?" said Barry in shock.

"Barry, how often do you stop and talk to the janitor in the station? If any one of you asked what I knew about Reverse Flash I could have told you upfront that Wells was most likely a time traveler stuck in the past," said Chris sarcastically.

"What do you want in return Cold?" asked Barry, changing the subject.

"I want my criminal record erased. All of it," said Snart without hesitation.

"Dude, I could have done that for you and Mick in an hour if you asked," said Chris. He had already wiped Lisa's record as a test. Not that she knew it.

"Yeah, but I want the boyscout to do it," said Snart, looking at Barry.

Barry looked at him, before asking flatly "If I do this, will you help?"

Snart smirked.

"I'll help, but that only lasts as long as I see my records wiped clean," he said.

Barry looked at Chris.

"He might be a thief, but his word is good so long as you hold up your end of the deal. Leo knows what real loyalty is, hence why we get along so well," said Chris.

Joe didn't like it, but he looked the other way.

What they didn't see was that Chris injected venom into the more murderous metas like the assassin that could turn into poison gas. It wouldn't take effect for a few hours, but when it did they were dead men walking without knowing they'd been poisoned.

Besides, he was honestly getting sick of having to clean up after the mess Thawne made. The man was a slob.

Leonard barely looked up when he heard Chris come in. Though he did reserve the right to smirk when he heard Lisa call out that she'd be out most of the night with him.

Finding out Chris had already wiped her criminal record clean without her asking had more or less insured her interest in him as dating material. That, and the fact her brother had openly told her to go for it as he actually liked the kid.

Frankly he felt Chris needed to get out more, and at least he knew he would never hurt Lisa.

* * *

 _With Chris and Lisa..._

"You know I've never actually bothered to go clubbing. I metabolize booze so fast that it takes the really high proof, magical liquor just to affect me and even then the buzz never lasts," said Chris.

"That must suck," said Lisa.

"Not really. Makes an excellent party trick and you won't believe how often I win drinking games," said Chris cheekily.

"Really now," purred Lisa with an interested gleam.

"As a matter of fact I was so annoyed when I found that out that I made my own still. One whiff of my home brew and you'll be buzzed from contact high. I bet even Mick wouldn't complain about it being weak if he tried it."

"Hell, I'm game," said Lisa. Chris cheekily pulled out a vial, and poured enough to fill a small teaspoon. She raised an eyebrow, before she humored him and sipped it. Two seconds after it hit her stomach, she was already drunk.

"Wow," she slurred. That was some _potent_ stuff!

Chris knocked back the rest as if it were water.

Lisa drank soda or water for the rest of the night, as the little Chris had poured her was more than enough to get her properly drunk. It might taste like shit, but if you knocked it back fast you didn't really notice it. Even with the copious amounts of bread and food, it didn't really dilute the effect.

Being carried princess-style back to the place her brother had commandeered after helping Flash, she noticed Leonard raising an eyebrow at the fact she could barely walk straight.

"How much did you two drink?" he asked.

"I gave her a _tiny_ amount of my home brew. Barely a teaspoon's worth. It's good enough to get even Mick drunk off of the fumes," said Chris. He then pulled out a larger vial and set it on the table.

"What's that?"

"The most effective hangover potion I've been able to get. It'll reduce the effects of my brew to a dull roar when she wakes up, unless she wants to try sleeping it off," said Chris.

Snart looked at the vial, then at his sister snoring loudly on the couch, barely on the cushions. With all clothes on, not that he worried about that with Chris.

"Got any more?"

He was done modifying his toys, and he was slightly bored.

Chris grinned in a wicked manner, before vanishing for a moment and returning with a rather small vial. Barely enough to fill the bottom of a proper shot glass.

Leonard opened the cork, took a light sniff of the contents before blinking. Whatever was in that vial had to be some strong stuff, because he was already feeling buzzed just smelling the fumes.

"How strong is this?"

"Strong enough to get a speedster drunk, though it tastes like shit. Which was all I cared about, once I found out the hard way I metabolized too fast to get drunk with the normal stuff."

Considering he was experiencing a pleasant buzz already, Leonard decided _not_ to drink the vial. Though he would convince Mick to drink it on a lark when he was bored.

And after seeing the massive hangover his sister had from actually drinking it, he knew he had made a smart choice. Even if she did go back to sleep once she took the hangover potion Chris had helpfully left behind for her. She didn't wake up until two in the morning.

Leonard had a hard time believe a small amount could cause someone like his sister (who started drinking the moment she could get a fake ID) to sleep an entire day away.

Seeing Mick try a sip, promptly spit it out from the taste and _still_ get drunk was hilarious to watch though.

* * *

"UGH!" said Barry in absolute disgust.

"You knock it back for a reason," said Chris grinning. He had already given some to Wells, Thawne...whatever the hell his name was. Even he had been impressed how strong it was.

"That was so gross..."

"Dude...are you drunk?" said Cisco.

"I think I am. And it's not going away like Caitlin's did," said Barry blinking.

"I gave you the extra large vial. Though the one I gave Wells is almost certain to give him a massive hangover for an hour."

He handed him a full beer mug of the stuff, reasoning that even if he didn't go "back to the future" he at least deserved a stiff drink.

Though watching his expression once the taste hit was downright hilarious.

"What is _in_ that?" asked Barry, sitting down.

"A healthy dose of wormwood. Absinthe might be slightly toxic, but it's still stronger than anything sold in the US," said Chris cheerfully.

Chris used to mix the strongest drinks he could find, but it rarely lasted as long as he liked. So he read everything he could find on home brewing, and eventually created something he called "The Concoction". It mixed magical and several brewing techniques to distill the most potent and lingering drink known to man.

For anyone _but_ a speedster (or possibly a god), drinking more than a few teaspoon's worth was a death sentence via alcohol poisoning, or at least the death of kidneys and liver. To say nothing of the effect on the brain.

There were easier ways to kill yourself, and they didn't taste as bad.

"No, seriously, what was in that? I haven't been able to get even buzzed since I got my powers," asked Barry.

Chris blinked. Then he pulled up the digital copy of the recipe.

One look at the list and the way it was prepared, and Caitlin looked openly horrified.

"This would kill someone!"

"I didn't design it for normal people. This is made to let speedsters like us get drunk and not have to worry about our metabolism ruining it. Hell, smelling it gets normal people buzzed before they even try drinking it!"

"But how would..."

"Caitlin, think of it this way... do you really think people who take herbal remedies _really_ want to know what's in them or how it's made?" he asked gently. "And besides, who really knows what's in beer or vodka in their exact proportions?"

She still looked disgusted.

"So how are we going to do this?" asked Cisco.

"Well it depends on whether or not Barry really wants to risk a paradox by saving his mother just to get rid of Reverse Flash. I mean it's not like any of you really know the side effects of changing something."

"And you do?" said Cisco.

"I've been a speedster for years, so yes. Though only small stuff... Charlene could not stop bitching when she found out what I'd done, because that idiot Savage nearly found out the current location of an Annex after I swiped a random artifact before he could get near it," said Chris.

"Who's Savage?" asked Barry.

"Vandal Savage. Immortal tyrant from Ancient Egypt. Fuels his immortality by killing a pair of lovers who were originally a priestess and her prince boyfriend after being hit with a meteorite that turned them into avatars for the Hawk God Horus. They reincarnate a lot, mostly because Savage has gotten _very_ good at killing them. And let's not forget that there is an actual group calling themselves Time Masters who go out of their way to insure major points of history stay in place."

"How do you know this stuff?" asked Cisco.

Chris' smirk did not inspire warm and fuzzy feelings.

"Time travelers are not that rare, and I can't tell you more without getting some serious flack from Charlene. Secrecy is tantamount to keeping the collection safe from people like Vandal Savage...but... I suppose I could show you Cal."

"Who's Cal?" asked Joe, before yelping as something silver, metal and apparently _alive_ flew into the room.

"This is Cal. Or should I say Caliburn."

The sword was flying and chittering in his strange langauge, and their reactions were priceless.

"Is that a flying sword?" asked Joe in disbelief.

"That...is totally awesome!" said Cisco, looking genuinely impressed.

"How is that possible? Is there some sort of psychic ability or..." said Caitlin, not believing her eyes.

"Nope. This is all Cal," said Chris proudly. The sword seemed to purr under his hand.

"That is some seriously messed up stuff," said Joe.

"What on earth?" said Stein upon seeing a floating sword.

"Isn't that the janitor?" said Ronnie.

"Yeah, not the janitor and I'm actually a speedster with a way cooler job that has way more perks," said Chris, vibrating his hand. "So Barry, are you going to try your luck time traveling or not?"

Barry seemed to shake off most of the effects of the Concoction (he had wisely not asked what exactly was in it) as he said "I'll do it."


	11. Chapter 11

Chris looked up at the black hole in the sky. While Leonard and Lisa had gotten out of the blast radius (they were currently chilling in the Annex outside Central City with the elves on strict orders to keep them from taking anything out) he sighed in exasperation.

Barry wasn't _nearly_ fast enough to force the vortex to go into reverse. He could barely break the time barrier.

So with the use of a light stunner, Chris knocked the kid out.

"Barry!" yelped Iris.

"He doesn't need the guilt of the death toll on his conscience, and I'm much faster. If anyone has a chance to stop this, it would be me. He's still too inexperienced to go fast enough to make even _time_ stand still."

Chris then took out a strange contraption that almost looked like wings. But there was no visible way for it to take off.

"I don't think a glider is going to cut it," said Cisco.

Chris rolled his eyes.

"I can launch tornadoes by spinning my arms. I don't need anything to give me lift or thrust, and I've had plenty of practice with this."

Chris adjusted it to his satisfaction, then made small cyclones with his arms. As he got to the right distance, he collapsed the wings and took off running faster than Barry could have managed. He might have been able to _barely_ pull it off, but it would be far too risky for Chris to like.

* * *

 _Down below..._

"My god... he's actually doing it," said Stein. The vortex was visibly starting to shrink, as Chris was running faster than it could rotate.

The sky was filled with things and people who were almost in suspended animation hovering the in the air. As if they didn't know whether they were being sucked up or had to again submit to the pull of gravity.

Chris kept up his running for five full minutes before Barry came to. It had only been a light stunner, but speedsters have a habit of abnormally fast recovery.

"What hit me?"

"Chris. He knocked you out so you wouldn't have to be the one who had to go up," said Cisco in disbelief.

Barry looked up and his jaw dropped. Even he could tell Chris was much, much faster than him.

Good thing Chris made it clear he was a "neutral party". He had enough bad luck with Reverse Flash.

It took Barry a few moments before he realized that while Chris was reversing the black hole, he could do something else.

He could rescue the poor saps currently floating.

He took off running.

The entire city watched as the two speedsters worked together...until suddenly the black hole let off a massive explosion of energy and collapsed.

With Chris actively working to reverse the rotation and the hole unable to suck in anything else to sustain it, the vortex was forced to shut down in a rather spectacular manner. The energy released was far more potent than the original explosion caused by the particle accelerator.

However instead of mutating energy that caused the emergence of meta-humans, because Chris was at the forefront of destabilizing the vortex, magic was released instead.

He was going to be out cold for a week once he went between to the first safe area he could think of...but the consequences of his actions caused a massive ripple of magic to pass through everyone in the fifty mile blast radius.

And if those the wave touched happened to have magical ancestry or a natural predisposition to use magic...well, they were going to be in for a bit of a surprise when the American Ministry came to their doorsteps to clean up the accidental awakening of new magicals in Central City.

Ironically, two of the people affected by the wave were Leonard and Lisa Snart. Years of living with an abusive father had forced them to tamp down their natural magical abilities, as limited as they were.

Now they were a full blown witch and wizard.

* * *

Chris found himself facing an unamused Leonard Snart. At least Lisa was having fun with her recently awakened magic.

"So let me get this straight. When you took out that black hole you accidentally woke up our magical abilities?"

"Look at the bright side... at least once you've trained up you can learn how to handle cursed artifacts long enough to sell them?" said Chris carefully.

"Exactly what sort of impact is this going to have on us?"

"You get a whole new set of people to rob, and they use gold, silver and copper as currency. Though I'd avoid the UK for a few years until they get their act together."

"Why?" asked Leonard.

"I may or may not have threatened to hold back the libraries I stole from them until they gave equality to everyone, whether they were from an old blood family, a new blood family, or had creature inheritance. Either everyone has the same rights or no one has any rights," said Chris sheepishly.

Actually his ultimatum to the _Daily Prophet_ was pretty damn clear. Either they established a better system that gave the same rights to everyone no matter their lineage, or they weren't going to get their books and artifacts (the ones he hadn't already sold off) back any time this century.

He wasn't going to tolerate their bad habit of catering only to the pure bloods and excluding everyone who didn't come from a pure blood family anymore. And unfortunately for them, the Queen agreed with his judgment.

They were making slow, but steady progress. At least they weren't treating the new bloods like trash, but they had a long way to go before Chris played nice.

Lisa practically glomped Chris.

"I am so loving this new ability," she said pleased.

Leonard rolled his eyes.

"Just wait until I teach you to fly," he said grinning. Lisa's eyes gleamed. "Or show you how to give Mick fire that doesn't burn."

Leonard snorted.

"If Mick has this sort of fire, he'd never turn it off," said Leonard.

"I know. Though if he's lucky, he'll have awakened too. There's actually a charm to prevent fire from burning anything, though at most it creates a mild tickling sensation. At least from what I heard."

Chris carefully didn't mention one woman liked the sensation so much she deliberately allowed herself to get caught repeatedly during the era of the witch trials just to get burned alive.

As Chris delivered Leonard and Lisa back to their preferred hideout (after the two elves made sure they didn't take anything), he made sure to visit the Ministry to register himself as the one who was taking responsibility for the Snart siblings.

No way was Leonard going to trust some random witch or wizard to teach him. He'd be more likely to freeze them, or Lisa would turn them to gold.

It was a much better idea for him to do the training, if only to help expedite the process for everyone.

It was as he was dodging the hexes, curses and spells sent his way (mostly for the sheer amount of paperwork involved), that he discovered one disquieting fact.

His speed was gone. No doubt it was only temporary, but it still made things a little harder.

Good thing he didn't use his speed all the time, and was more likely to rely on his wandless magic than his super speed.

* * *

 _In the hideout..._

Mick, as Chris was disappointed to learn, did not awaken to any magic outside of the amount needed to qualify as a mere hedgewitch.

Chris promptly taught him the few charms he knew Mick would like (and thus practice regularly) and left him alone.

He could dance in flames, have blue fire all over him whenever he wanted and the basic household charms (like summoning a beer without having to get up or unlocking a door). He didn't need to know the fancy stuff. Nor did he care.

Though he was disappointed to learn that owning dragons was illegal, but he might be able to own a phoenix.

Chris made a mental note to get Mick a salamander sometime in the near future.

Leonard was reluctant to learn, but agreed to it since Chris said he didn't have to use magic regularly. Lisa was more eager to learn, if for no other reason than the fact that Chris could teach her how to fly using a broom.

About the only reason Leonard agreed to learn at all was because Chris explained about what he jokingly called a "rare candy hack".

Leonard could go to any bank in UK and exploit the loophole that prevented the goblins from keeping up with current gold exchange rates.

The pound-to-gold ratio was heavily skewed toward gold, and he could converted his entire account to gold and then back to American dollars...all of it perfectly legal.

It meant he could make a hell of a lot of money without doing much work at all.

It took Chris over a month and a half to make it known he was still alive. Barry and the others were _not_ pleased that he had waited so long.

Several "metas" had sprung up after the event, only to mysteriously lose their powers and gain unusual jewelry. Cisco had been going nuts trying to figure out how to replicate it.

Once they were over the shock, Cisco was quick to drag Chris over to his play area. He had gotten a _lot_ of ideas to modify the flight tech Chris had shown him for Barry to use. However he wanted to see Chris' gear to hash out the kinks first.

Chris was fine with it, so long as Cisco could help create a way for him to fly without having to rely on his arms, his magic or the wind.

He was a big fan of the back up plan.

"What the heck are these scribbles?"

"Runes. Before you ask, if you haven't been approached by the government asking about strange accidents yet, odds are you aren't qualified to know how they work. Just know that a few of these can do things that it would take a bulky machine to pull off."

"Prove it," said Cisco.

Chris grinned evilly. He channeled a bit of magic into his finger, before drawing a rune to create ice in Cisco's hot coffee. It wasn't until he went to take a drink and yelped as the slushie mess hit him in the face that he started to believe.

"I love the slushie rune. Makes it so much more fun to drink soda," said Chris snickering.

He was barely old enough to legally drink. Of course he was going to abuse his knowledge of magical runes to master making slushies in a few seconds as opposed to hours of waiting.

Liquid Nitrogen cooled things too quickly. Freezers and the arctic cold took _hours_ to chill a case of soda into a slushie.

The moment he found a rune that created ice, the first thing he did was learn how much magic it took to turn carbonated drinks into slushies.

It took him a week, and ever since he abused the rune to have nice cold drinks during hot summers...or when he was in a hot climate. He also used it to have cold water, even when he was previously carrying a warm water bottle.

He abused the heat rune for the same reason when it came to his tea or hot cocoa. Unless it was summer, in which case he used the cold rune.

Needless to say Leonard was also making some impressive strides in runes...particularly ones that affected temperature.

Lisa...well she was still reading the books in the English annex that Chris brought back for her. She found it fascinating that the English magicals still hadn't caught on to the idea of charging someone who used "muggle" methods with murder, even if it happened in front of them, so long as the weapon wasn't enchanted.

She could literally walk up to the Minister, shoot him with the toy she had blackmailed Cisco made for her and not be arrested for it. After all, they didn't officially exist in the eyes of the world unless they were born in the non-magical hospital.

Chris actually made a decent amount of gold selling what hackers liked to call "shelf babies" tailored to fit magicals who wanted to 'fit in' with the muggle world.

If they really annoyed him, then he made a point to hand them identities that were used by other hackers to hide their own crimes. All of them were sold to hackers with nonviolent crimes.

Chris wasn't about to let someone who thought murder or rape was acceptable escape justice.

"Dude...this is so cool."

"Which reminds me. I plan to drag Barry into real training soon."

He could juggle training the Snart siblings and Barry. That's what made going Between so useful.

"Yeah...Barry hasn't..."

"He's moping, isn't he?" asked Chris.

"Yeah. Pretty much. Hasn't said a word to any of us since the incident."

"Time for me to employ my most devastating skill."

"What is that?" asked Cisco.

"Why I'll be the most annoying son of a bitch on the planet until he gets so irritated that I force him to get off his ass and do something productive until the next crisis shows up," said Chris cheerfully.

And as Judson and Charlene could attest, most vocally and with a great deal of swearing, he could be VERY annoying. So much so that he could literally make a saint snap and try to strangle him.

Not that Judson went that far, but he did throw a book at Chris once to get him to _shut up._


End file.
